I am having breakfast with Annie. Not my choice to do so, but reflecting over my coffee in peaceful solitude is not an option today. I see her approach, ponderous, implacable, full of good will in the face of another day here at Oak Park retirement community. She inches her walker forward slowly, in tiny increments. She is coming for me! I am going to be one of the morsels on her extensive breakfast menu. A reluctant server scribbles the order: “One oatmeal, two brown sugars, one packet of raisins, one piece of crisp bacon, two sausages, one cup of milk, one cup of orange juice…it goes on and on. Annie will pack some in her capacious walker to enjoy in her room later, while waiting for lunch. But first, breakfast in the dining room, and a nice long chat…with ME! Annie is determined to brighten my day, sharing good news about her nephew, who has just been released from jail, and commentary on the sunny weather. I focus on her porous nose, her deliberate fleshy lips, her white shoulder exposed by the sheer dress she wears every day; actually every night and day it seems. She smells a bit gamey. I can do this, I tell myself.