Ben Joners

挨拶

Monday morning. The corridor of the nursing home smells of disinfectant and strong coffee. It’s drizzling outside. Inside, footsteps echo on the linoleum. The glass door opens with a soft hum. Ben steps in, sporting sunglasses even though not a ray of sunlight is visible. Designer jacket. Expensive watch. That smile which costs nothing and promises everything. He pauses, scrutinizing the reception as if it were a hotel that doesn’t quite live up to his expectations.