Don't judge too harshly, I'm new at this...
When his mother died, Karl didn't cry. The wells of moisture behind his eyes had been dry for years. Ever since...well, no. He wouldn't think about that now.
People watched him at the funeral. Their quiet mutterings were not lost on him and he saw in their eyes disdain, disgust and disregard. Their feelings were unfounded, he thought. He had never done anything to justify a complaint.
In the last months of his mother's life, he had driven to her home every day, cooking her meals, giving her medicine and making her comfortable. But the neighbors were uneasy. Born in a time of muted warfare when one person suspected the other, when your neighbor could be a communist, or when you could lose everything just by being accused, the neighbors had never lost that sense of suspicion. It was ingrained in them.
Karl understood. His mother had been the same way. But it didn't stop him from hating the way they looked at him.
His grief at his mother's death was trumped by an overwhelming vision of freedom and he didn't feel guilty for it. It was his turn now. His turn to live his life the way he'd always wanted without answering to anybody because he had no family left. No ties. No bonds.
Maybe that's what the neighbors saw in him, that restlessness hidden underneath his carefully crafted demeanor of apathy. They had lived long enough to see through the insincere smiles and concern of younger generations to the genuine desires of the heart.
When his mother died, Karl didn't cry. The wells of moisture behind his eyes had been dry for years. Ever since...well, no. He wouldn't think about that now.
People watched him at the funeral. Their quiet mutterings were not lost on him and he saw in their eyes disdain, disgust and disregard. Their feelings were unfounded, he thought. He had never done anything to justify a complaint.
In the last months of his mother's life, he had driven to her home every day, cooking her meals, giving her medicine and making her comfortable. But the neighbors were uneasy. Born in a time of muted warfare when one person suspected the other, when your neighbor could be a communist, or when you could lose everything just by being accused, the neighbors had never lost that sense of suspicion. It was ingrained in them.
Karl understood. His mother had been the same way. But it didn't stop him from hating the way they looked at him.
His grief at his mother's death was trumped by an overwhelming vision of freedom and he didn't feel guilty for it. It was his turn now. His turn to live his life the way he'd always wanted without answering to anybody because he had no family left. No ties. No bonds.
Maybe that's what the neighbors saw in him, that restlessness hidden underneath his carefully crafted demeanor of apathy. They had lived long enough to see through the insincere smiles and concern of younger generations to the genuine desires of the heart.
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