Sipsworth

by Simon Van Booy

Helen had felt her particular circumstances special: just as she had once been singled out for happiness, she was now an object of despair. But then after so many consecutive months alone, she came to the realisation that such feelings were simply the conditions of old age and largely the same for everybody.

The only real proof of her advanced age are a chronic, persistent feeling of defeat, aching limbs, and the power of invisibility to anyone between the ages of ten and fifty.

Common decency was important in those days. Many had died for it.

Well... These are true words, huh?

“I’m Helen Cartwright. At least that’s what people used to call me. And I wasn’t always like this. You’ve caught me at a bad time.”

Helen notices her hand trembling⁠—not because she’s holding a live mouse, but because it’s the first time she’s been touched by another living thing for over twenty years.

Lord, please take me before I arrive at a similar situation.