Old man and the letter

His long white beard fluttered in the air as he staggered towards the floor outside the red building. The building was fragmented and very pale due to its age. It was once so very attractive piece of architecture in the small town. It now stood dilapidated among other magnificent tall rise towers beside it. 

The man struggled with his walking stick as passerby took no attention of his presence. His dhoti was stained from toil in the fields and he was drenched in sweat yet he didn't seem to worry about his physical pain. His face showed signs of eagerness and hopelessness as well.

The cold winds made him shiver as it began to turn dark and he was waiting patiently. A guard came towards him and said," Sir, how many times to tell you that the letter you expect won't arrive, please leave the place as we are busy with other chores". The old man's eyes turned colour and tears escaped his hopeless eyes.

All that he needed was a letter from his children and grandchildren that they were happy. They had moved to the city for job but he preferred to stay back with his piece of inherited land. He couldn't imagine giving up farming as it was the only occupation he had. He wasn't educated and he didn't have the smartphone and his hopes were the postal letter that he has been waiting for the past 5 yrs. 

Before he used to receive letters but for the past 5 yrs it had stopped abruptly. He had enquired the post office and after three months they said that his family had died in a car accident. There were attempts to reach out to him to convey the information but he was inaccessible.

The old man could not accept the fact and since then he lived with an illusion and hope that one day a letter would arrive. It was his routine to come by 4pm and wait till night 9pm outside the post office and leave back.