Winter melts away into spring. Spring ignites into summer. Summer smolders into autumn. The

coals of autumn are extinguished by the cold snows of winter. All things in this world revolve

around the cycle of life, death, and renewal. That's the nature of existence, which

tries you might, with simply no stopping the cycle. Uncle Henry has entered that last stage

of his journey. His journey through this big, weird, old world of ours, and this fact

filled me to the brim with anxiety. I couldn't imagine his absence from my life. It was

incomprehensible to me that he would eventually exhale his last breath, and then, and then

he would be gone. On his end, Henry tried his best to settle into a new life in a new place,

and he actually did a lot better than I had expected. That was half anticipating a barrage of

angry phone calls from the director of the retirement community within the first few weeks. But Henry

Henry behaved himself. Didn't tell off any of the staff. Yeah, the landscapers to do their work in peace.

Oh and all. Henry adjusted pretty well for a crusty old farmer who wasn't used to being crowded

by strangers. He liked walking down the community center to socialize with other residents,

but he referred to their shuttle bus outings as taking the oldie express to Dipper Town.

Instead, Henry took up lawn bowling, and he became almost obsessed with the card game,

Crivich. He's been hours researching strategies on his new laptop, squinting the screen,

with a notebook, and a pen that's ready. Now, I've been mopping the floor with these old

fuckers. He told me with a grim smile, they call me Hank the Shark, down at the community center.

Hank the Shark, repeated slowly, and I shook my head. Henry, if the only person I know

who would move to a retirement village and immediately turn to a degenerate gambler,

don't drain anyone's retirement fund, okay? I can't promise anything.

Henry grumbled sourly. Nothing else to do around here except play cards, make myself some enemies.

...