The cobwebs around the bathroom window have gathered dust; even the spider has seen it best to vacate the area as the dust weighs down on the threads breaking it slowly over time.
The little pile of dead beetles, moths and silverfish line the windowsill with little black dots of spider shit.
I suppose I had better clean this place up? Thought Gladys for the umpteenth time that year; she held the basin, trying to stand independently but faltering as her shoulders gave way to pain.
Maybe some other time when my arthritis isn’t giving me gyp? She thought to herself, as she resigned back to her wingback chair in the lounge to watch more dramatic daytime television – who’d have thought my life would be like this? Thought the former gym instructor; who’d have thought?