Ala walks in to the bedroom and stares, completely blank. An old woman looks up from the bed and asks, “What do you want?”
Cupboards line the walls, the fan hangs from the ceiling and light shines through window. “I forgot,” Ala says.
She asks, “So what was it?”
A moment later, they burst out lauging.
She has Parkinsons. It invites laughter, sometimes.
Ala is blanking. Maybe, there’ll be laughter here, someday.
Ageing has its moments of mirth. To find them, is to find bubbles of air in an underwater cave.