A Sad One

            He sat in his study day after day and never moved from his armchair. He swatted at flies that were only in his imagination and continually reached for a cup of tea that was no longer waiting for him. But he was OK, he would have noticed these things if his attention had not been fully occupied by tomes that his eyes scanned without ever wavering. For nine years he had been searching for some cure to a recurrent case of pneumonia. He no longer knew anyone with pneumonia, but he mumbled his wife’s name and chose not to notice.