Fade

 Brooks is tried after a busy day at the garden, the grass had grown tall and the bushes need trimming. Its been a while since he had worked so much after retirement, his knee aches after standing and walking all day.

All he want is a toast with marmalade and hot chocolate. "Chocolate is bad for your teeth...." a voice from a distance. It was his mother's voice, he looked around for his mom...."But...but my mom died long time ago....." Brooks said to himself, he started to get unsettled...."Am I loosing my mind? " he thought..."I am hearing things..I am hallucinating." A panic is setting in.  Brooks knew its getting serious, he might loose his memory due to old age. 

Few weeks passed by, a fog in his mind, faces blurred, conversations evaporated, and the details of yesterday dissolved like mist. He sighed, resigned to the fact that his memories were like sand slipping through his fingers, no matter how desperately he tried to hold on.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Brooks glanced at the calendar on the wall. Dates and appointments scribbled in bold, black ink stared back at him, reminders of the life he once led, now becoming increasingly elusive. He struggled to recall what each date signified, feeling a pang of frustration at his inability to grasp onto the threads of time slipping away. The deafening silence and loneliness. 

Breakfast was a simple affair – a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea. Brooks had long since abandoned complex recipes and culinary experiments. The kitchen, once a place of comfort and creativity, now felt foreign and daunting. The fear of forgetting to turn off the stove or leaving food to burn haunted him like a specter, so he stuck to the basics, relying on routine to guide him through the fog of his mind.

After breakfast, Brooks sat in his favorite armchair, staring out of the window at the world beyond. Birds chirped merrily in the trees, oblivious to the turmoil within his mind. He envied their carefree existence, untouched by the relentless march of time that threatened to erase his very identity.

The hours slipped by in a blur of confusion and uncertainty. Brooks attempted to occupy his mind with puzzles and crosswords, hoping to stave off the encroaching darkness for just a little while longer. But each answer he filled in felt like a victory tinged with sorrow, a fleeting triumph in the face of an inevitable defeat.

Lunchtime came and went, the afternoon melting into evening with no discernible difference. Brooks found solace in the simple pleasures – the warmth of sunlight on his face, the soothing melody of his favorite records playing in the background. But beneath the surface calm, a storm raged – a battle against an unseen enemy that threatened to consume him whole. He wish this ended, just say goodbye to the world and take a final rest.

As night fell and Brooks prepared for bed, he felt a sense of unease settle over him like a heavy blanket. The darkness held no comfort, only the promise of another day lost to the abyss of his failing memory. But amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained – a spark of resilience that refused to be extinguished.

With a weary sigh, Brooks slipped beneath the covers, surrendering to the embrace of sleep. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new obstacles to overcome. But for now, in the quiet stillness of the night, he allowed himself to rest, knowing that its just a journey to the finish line.