He stands naked on the windowsill drying off his morning shower in a broad stroke of sun. Springtime. Short skirts taut around bow-legs, aspiring magnolia trees, whistling postmen, looming seagulls, business men in weekend loafers, sidewalks stained in last night’s affairs. He thinks what a day it can be if we try. Persuasion comes to him through a ringtone his mom suggested he use for her, Reasons, by Earth Wind and Fire. Wake up, she tells him, stop dreaming so much. She wasn’t ever a dreamer. The Notary Public took all of hers away, so did marriage, so did he. She’s said this to him before, he’s not making it up. Resentment builds around her birthday when all the gifts he presents to her aren’t what she wants. She claims he’ll never know her. He’ll insist he’s going to try harder. Maroon suits her olive eyes. Her skin mutates the smell of roses to peaches and cilantro. She’s more than specific in her presence. When she reads, she follows words across the page with her pinky finger. If she asks him to bake squash pies he knows he’s in trouble. Bend over young man. She demands he grab a newspaper from six weeks ago so she can read the obituaries and opinion sections. He obliges, puts on a tie, unfolds his wallet and pulls out the cash. She’s left with a tiny social security check and a feral cat named Fiona. He slips on his pants and digs into his breakfast. Cellophane unravels from a peanut butter candy bar. He waits for yesterday’s girl scouts, thin mints and ice cream, pigtails spiraling outside a hat, knocking at his door, cheeky with grin. He’ll take fifteen boxes tomorrow, he said yesterday. They’ll be here soon. He has too much money in the bank and isn’t motivated to spend it. Traveling to far away places would be impossible, he can’t bear the look of his chubbied feet in flip flops. Everyone has a beauty, but his is hard to locate. Jowls wobble from the other side of the mirror. Red eyes burn through his deplorable gaze. If you dare drop a glass of water on the kitchen floor, he’ll slip and fall. He’s flaccid, even in the joints. He waits for hepatitis and rabies and the shingles to climb into his socks. The doctor will show him the signs, he’s sure of it.