For What I've Done I'm Not Proud

Blank walls, constantly clean hardwood floors, uncomfortable silence. That's all Cora ever experienced these days, cooped up in the old nursing home Drew and Jade had forced her into when she, to put in the nicest of terms, began going a bit insane. Did they think this boring place made it any better? she mused halfheartedly, stubbing her toe against the coffee table. She was surprised her foot didn't shatter on impact due to the fragility of her bones. Age did not do the once lively young girl well.

It'd been years since Cora had seen any action, and she meant any. After leaving the group behind she ended up travelling on her own for most of her adulthood before finally meeting back up again, and even then there wasn't much to do. She missed the old days, where walkers were around every corner and adventure down every road. She wasn't even sure if she could shift anymore, but there was no way she'd try. "Hey Casey," Cora spoke up suddenly, her old voice rasping with age as she noticed her old friend sitting not too far away, "ever think about the good ol' days?"

It had been too much for the woman these past few days. The constant prodding and pleading of the workers at the nursing home, begging her to move and such, but Casey had no desires to do much now. Through her bifocals, lined in copper wire, the woman stared out at the blank white walls. Secretly, she had been imagining her life had things been different. Had she taken more risks, perhaps she might have been happier and her days more fulfilled, or perhaps her children might have pitied her and let her live out the rest of her days in the comforts of her home. Alas, her weakened bones had confined her to a wheelchair, and her home was no longer accessible for the elder. Or, at least that’s how her kids conned her into staying in the facility. Suddenly, Casey hunched forward in her chair, her bony elbows resting on her thighs. Most of her old friends were here, which was a perk. She had grown apart from them as many did. With love and children one seemed to forget their past life, no matter how wonderful it was. She enjoyed seeing them now, their brazenness had faded with their youth and the people were shadows of their former selves. It was humbling, to say the least. Hearing the call of a familiar voice, Casey placed her hand on the wheel of her chair and turned away from the wall to meet the gaze of none other than Cora. “Cora,” Casey greeted, her voice muffled and raspy, the back of her jaw clenched to hold her dentures into place. “I think about it every day,” she replied, the corners of her mouth turning upward with each word. “Those were some of the best times of my life.”