Logan made the same trek along the beach to his house every morning after getting his paper. Once, his neighbours would've called out a greeteing and he would've grumbled out a good natured reply. Just a few years ago, the neighbourhood children would often throw a ball to him and he'd stop for a game, but the years had changed that.

When he made his way into the house - for he could no longer call it a home - he sat in his old leather chair and put his paper aside. He wasn't intrested in the news of today. Instead he took an old photo album off the coffee table.
Running his hand lovingly over it, he opened the cover and drifted back to yesterday