Older man holding open book in hallway with older man standing in background

Micheal McCoy, a sixty-three-year-old man, spends his days in a nursing home in the middle of nowhere Texas. At least he thinks he’s in Texas, he doesn’t remember, he thinks he’s in a nursing home but he’s not completely sure. He’s dressed in an old brown and cream-colored sweater that he thinks he got from his daughter, maybe his son, does he have kids? He can’t remember, he’s also wearing tan colored pants which he doesn’t recall putting on, his brown loafers clicked down a hallway, and a moment of clarity came to him, he was in his own house not a nursing home. But why? He could have sworn he was in a nursing home or maybe even a hospital. He scratched his grey-covered head and accidentally hit his old, almost broken metal-framed glasses, and looked around the house that was full of distant memories. Looking around the old cigarette-smelling home his memory became foggy once more until he stumbled upon a desk, of which notebooks with covers that were barely hanging on lay, notebooks with coffee-stained pages, notebooks that contained stories from his life, that he had forgotten that had happened in years past. He decided to open one, to see if he could recall his own story.
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Micheal McCoy
,
a sixty-three-year-old man
,
spends his days in a nursing home in the middle of nowhere Texas
.
At least he thinks he’s in Texas
,
he doesn’t remember
,
he thinks he’s in a nursing home but he’s not completely sure
.
He’s dressed in an old brown and cream-colored sweater that he thinks he got from his daughter
,
maybe his son
,
does he have kids
?
He can’t remember
,
he’s also wearing tan colored pants which he doesn’t recall putting on
,
his brown loafers clicked down a hallway
,
and a moment of clarity came to him
,
he was in his own house not a nursing home
.
But why
?
He could have sworn he was in a nursing home or maybe even a hospital
.
He scratched his grey-covered head and accidentally hit his old
,
almost broken metal-framed glasses
,
and looked around the house that was full of distant memories
.
Looking around the old cigarette-smelling home his memory became foggy once more until he stumbled upon a desk
,
of which notebooks with covers that were barely hanging on lay
,
notebooks with coffee-stained pages
,
notebooks that contained stories from his life
,
that he had forgotten that had happened in years past
.
He decided to open one
,
to see if he could recall his own story
.
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