There should be a way. There really had to be a way. When he was younger, he looked in the mirror and found himself everytime. When everyone else was trying to find themselves in college, he was centered. Brush the teeth, comb the hair, check the mirror and you are still there. A wink, a hand pushing through the wavy fair hair and he was there.

There should be a way there, home. His center. Something dropped out of his soul and he never even heard it hit the ground. Something that centered him, kept him close to himself, was gone. The mirror know was a mockery. The fair hair was fairly gray and the wink looked lewd. The teeth stained by yesterday and yesteryear's coffee. The brown tinged the yellow and he let the lips pull together in case anyone else were to see what decay had done to him.

There should be a way back home, but time slipped away, through his fingers, through his life with nothing saved.