Schroon Lake

by Bill Foley

Dale stood frozen in the parking lot of the Essex Nursing Home like a decorative plant. Where am I? He felt the strong grip of a hand on his elbow leading him back inside.

“Come on, Mr. Malone. It’s time for Bingo in the recreation room,” the attendant said.

Dale tried to resist but the man holding his arm would not be deterred.

“I want to go home. I have to feed my dog, Teddy.”

“This is your home Mr. Malone. You don’t have a dog.”

“No one’s home. I gotta feed him.”

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