I just… I can’t even believe this is happening, and I’m so mad, just incandescent with it, and it's not even at him, not really, but at the whole stupid situation and at myself for being so… I don't even know, just here, stuck, like a fly in amber, and it’s just the worst because I saw him today, at the store, just getting bread and milk like always, and he looked so much older than he did even a few months ago, and he had to hold the package of rolls right up to his face to read the ingredients, which, you know, it just makes my stomach clench because I know what that means, and I know why he’s doing it, and it’s just this terrible, sinking feeling because it means he's getting worse, and he's going to end up hurting himself or someone else, and I can just see it all playing out, like a slow-motion car crash that no one can stop, and it’s just infuriating that it's come to this. And he's been at that factory since he was eighteen, literally since high school graduation, and everyone knows him, everyone in this whole town knows him and his dad worked there before him and his granddad, it’s just *the* place, and it’s practically in his blood, and he takes so much pride in it, in being precise, in making sure everything is exactly right, which is why this is so much worse, because he’s always been so particular, so fastidious, and now he’s having to squint and lean in, and I know for a fact he’s dropping things, and the foreman, old man Davies, he’s probably just looking the other way because it’s John, and you don’t just fire John, but it’s still dangerous, and I saw him just wobble a little bit when he was reaching for something on the top shelf, and I swear to god I almost went over there and just… I don’t know, helped him, but then he’d get all defensive, and he’d probably snap at me, because he’s always been proud and a little bit stubborn, and he wouldn’t want pity, but it’s not pity, it’s just… it’s the reality of it. And I just keep thinking about those assembly lines, and how fast everything moves, and how he's got to thread those tiny wires and fit those delicate components, and it’s not like he’s just moving boxes, it’s detailed work, and the consequences of a mistake are… well, they’re not good, and I just get so angry thinking about it, about how he has to keep going, and there are no other options, not really, not out here, and it's not like he’s going to retrain for something else at 55, and it’s just this crushing feeling of helplessness and rage at the whole damn system, and at the fact that he’s probably terrified, but he’d never say it, and it’s just… it’s a mess. And I don’t know what to do. And I just wish I didn't see him at the store, because now I can't get it out of my head.