Rocking in the gliding chair made him think about the time before kindness left the world. “Do you remember what it was like? I mean, before hatred came on stronger than love? When did love become an outlawed emotion?”

               “Sid, you’ve been sitting in the same chair, rocking in the same way, before I came here fifteen years ago. I can tell you, for a fact, that I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Another man sat next to him in a stationary deck chair, his legs wrapped underneath him in a semi-yoga pose. Neither man knew what yoga was or why they both needed it. Their occupational therapists did their best to motivate them to try it, but they both refused.

               “People used to be kind to each other,” Sid continued. His coffee cup sat next to him on a small table, the precise height of the glider’s stationary arms. As light as that small table was, it never moved on the wooden porch of the group home. The families of older people who could afford it sent them to this place. Shady Grove Assisted Living. Located on the shoreline of the Gulf of Mexico, right on the edge of Biloxi, Mississippi, the temperature was pleasant for most of the year. Once in a great while, a hurricane would shut down Biloxi and other Gulf towns, such as Pascagoula and Gulf Port.

               Sid and Charlie hit it off when Charlie moved in next door to him. His son-in-law and daughter did their best to get him settled in. But Sid’s interjection quelled the slow brewing fight, brought on by Charlie’s reluctance of what he called a ‘babysitter.’ Born in the same generation as Sid, a GenXer like him, he got why Charlie didn’t want to be here. Sid felt the same way five years earlier.

               “Think COVID-19 had anything to do with that?” Charlie asked, pouring himself more coffee. The French press sat between both men on the table with Sid’s coffee cup.

               Sid sipped his coffee, slightly blowing on it. He’d been drinking coffee for years, and even though he knew blowing on it didn’t really cool it off, he did it anyway. “Dunno. Could be.” He took a small drink. “Might’ve been politics. Too many politicians held office past their prime. You know what I mean?”

               “Sid, if you’re saying that our country would’ve been better off . . .” Charlie was interrupted by Sid.

               “Don’t even say his name! The audacity of that,” Sid balled up both fists, looking ready to fight the next person who came into his reach, “you can’t even say ‘man,’ can you?”

               Charlie shrugged. “It’s been a long time. I heard he tried to buy his way out of prison. You know he’s not buried in Arlington like the others, right?” Charlie hadn’t touched his coffee until now, pouring heavy cream into it. Sid drank his black, which Charlie couldn’t understand. Charlie had been drinking coffee longer than Sid and always put something into it. Sugar. Cream. Sometimes both.

               “You still putting that crap into your coffee?”

               “Why can’t you just be happy I’m still drinking it?”

               “Because I cannot, in good conscience, watch you destroy this perfected Ethiopian blend of coffee by putting, wait. What is that? Heavy cream, Charlie? Really?”

               “What exactly is your problem?”

               “See? That’s what I’m talking about! Where did this hostility come from?”

               “Um, you. You are the one that started it.”

               “The whole coffee thing,” Sid asked, finishing the last sip of his coffee.

               “That was all you,” Charlie replied. “Before that? We were having a civil conversation.”

               “Do you think we’d be better without term limits for politicians?”

               “You think we have politicians, Sid? I think we’ve got men, women, and trans folks who can’t advocate for anyone but themselves. It’s why our economy collapsed back in early 2036. No one wanted to work together. See? Love is almost nonexistent today. No one cares about anything but themselves.”

               “You might be right about that, buddy.”

               “Damn straight.” After setting his cup down, Sid slowly edged off the chair, standing on his wobbly legs. “One day, I won’t get out of that chair,” he pointed at the glider. He winked at Charlie. “But it’s not today, my friend. That glider won’t best me. At least not today.” He walked past Charlie. “Thank you for the coffee. It really was delicious.”

               “You’re quite welcome, Sid. I miss the days when we could disagree and not become enemies.”

               “Me too,” Sid answered, waving at Charlie as he passed. “I’ll see you for lunch then?”

               “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

               “I’ll save a seat for you.”

               “Good enough,” Charlie answered.

“Good enough,” Sid replied.