It’s the lonely old man’s birthday.
He remembers his 10th birthday, 60 years ago, when he celebrated it with friends, parents, and boxes of water guns.
He remembers his 30th birthday, 40 years ago, when he celebrated it with partners, mistresses and wads of cash.
He remembers his 50th birthday, 20 years ago, when he celebrated it with children, grandchildren and bottles of champagne.
Today he celebrates his 70th birthday with a wooden table, a wooden chair, and four empty walls.
His mind is of anticipation. A wooden box, a wooden dais, a small white floral wreath.