Today’s my 97th birthday. I woke up with no candles, no cards, no phone calls.

I live in a small room above a closed-down hardware store. The landlord doesn’t charge me much, mostly because I fixed his plumbing last winter. Not much in here besides a creaky bed, a kettle, and my chair by the window. That window’s my favorite—it lets me watch the buses go by.

I walked to the bakery two blocks down. Continues…