the day passed like the old man who died in his ragged gray underwear. no one was watching. yesterday's chicken was reheated for dinner. and no one was there to speak to the old man, so the meal was silent. bland chicken and bland peas. then the sun slipped down and slowly the room grew dark. that happens a tiny bit at a time, like old age creeping in. he did not reach for the light switch. he closed his eyes, put his head down on the table, and let out one long and final breath. then it was night, and the day had passed like the old man who died in his ragged gray underwear. who knows now what was in his heart? no one knows that.