Winston

I see him all the time. I've seen him for years now. I've watched him get grayer, his hairline receding a bit more as time passes. The lines around his eyes have grown deeper but the eyes have always been a bit sad. An ageless guilt, fresh as the day it was born, staring from somewhere deep inside. His broad shoulders are more rounded than they used to be, bent from years of some personal burden. He never had abs but his physique suits him. Anything more would be contrived.
"Let's do something", he tells me. "I'm tired of just sitting around." My indecision is crippling. I've no time to waste anymore. I've been stuck too long and each day Winston gets further away. Something cold and hard, akin to panic, starts to form in my gut.
I see him sometimes standing in the shade of the maple tree, watching me as I work in the garden. He smiles and my heart melts. He's waiting for me. I'm stealing his life but I'm terrified that I'll do something wrong, do something that will change him, so I do nothing. But he never leaves. His sighs are more frequent. Maybe he's gotten too comfortable waiting for me.
"Let's take the dog to the park," he suggests. "Or maybe we should check out the storm damage at the river." I nod. Maybe tomorrow, after I get the laundry done.