The Golden Age Of Death (A CALLIOPE REAPER-JONES NOVEL) - Plot & Excerpts
What was the name of the card game they were playing? The old man had a terrible memory, but that hadn’t always been the case. When he was young and spry, he could recite whole passages from the King James Bible like he was reading out a grocery list. But these days he was lucky if he could remember to put his own pants on. The thought made him look down at his legs just to make sure he’d actually put his pants on. Yep, they were on. At least, he’d remembered to do that this morning. Ever since his wife, Flora, had died six months ago, he’d been getting steadily worse. He had moments of lucidity—like right now—but those didn’t last and they were always followed by long stretches of lost time. Lost time. He wondered where it went? He knew it had to go somewhere…he just couldn’t put his finger on where that might be. He looked around the room, his brain trying to remember how he’d gotten to the recess room, but for the life of him he couldn’t fathom how. He knew he was safe, that the other denizens of the Shady Glen Row Home For The Aged were all around him, enjoying the extracurricular activities and supplies that abounded in the recess room: cards, board games, books, painting supplies, clay to mold…even a television set for the lazy ones.
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