Published in StoryStar 2013 The problem was that I was lonely - lonely and old. Life here in the Dementia ward was a little dull to say the least and had not gotten any better from the first day that I was dumped in here on, of all days, my Seventy-seventh birthday. My family, what was left of them, had decided that I was of no more use to them as a parent or a babysitter on account that I was slowly loosing my mind due to the early onset of Altzimeters, that and their two brutish children were more than capable of looking after themselves now since reaching their teens, and aspirations of a criminal record. So after the ‘dumping’ of myself and my belongings into the cheapest rooms they were willing to pay for they went on their merry way never to be seen or heard from again. That was four