Your not supposed to look at the legs, it’s why we are sacking you Mr Smith, what am I going to tell Mavis, Mavis being his girl, well, 89 she is an old girl. Jimmy Smith, her nephew, young and naive, didn’t read the new regulations, no looking at girls in the office anymore, it’s offensive, he’s not impressed, what will I tell Mavis. There is no one else he can tell, and she is deaf.
Her head is shrunk, the skin is tight, old age has got a hold of her, and her time is near, so she believes, depressed, wanted to do more, the nursing home she lives in, is waking up, another drowsy sleep, she thought all night about the stuff she used to be able to do, in between the screams of some of those inside, it feels like a prison camp, maybe it’s getting old. Don’t forget Mavis, God Most High can do anything, she hears it inside her head, medication.
The door opens, the trolley girl as she calls her comes into her room, a nurse with an assortment of medication. She mixes the tablets with some soft food, open up Mavis, the nurse says, with a hand behind her back, she helps Mavis raise her head, it’s easier to swallow, two spoons, the medication is gone, so is the Trolley girl, doing the rounds