How does it feel to live in the shadow of a ghost, a memory, a period that has long since past?  How does it feel to know that you can never measure up and that whatever you do would always be considered second best?  How does it feel to know you’ll never be good enough, ...

The old man has always been there. There was never a time in my life when he didn’t show up. True, it was always according to his schedule. Time meant nothing to him. He would show up when he wanted to and leave when he jolly well pleased. No glances at the wall to check ...