Every evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the pub door creaked open, announcing the arrival of the old man, James. He walked in slowly, as if the years were a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders.
Each step he took resonated with a quiet dignity, yet it was evident that life had etched its burdens into his weary frame. He made his way to the same table in the corner by the window, where he could observe the world outside while remaining in his comfortable cocoon of solitude.
James settled into his chair with a soft sigh, the familiar creak of the wood a comforting sound that reminded him he was home, if only for a while. The warm glow of the pub’s lights surrounded him, casting a gentle halo that softened the sharp edges of his memories.