Elena stood in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dying day.
Her eyes, though weary, held a glimmer of desperate hope. She watched as the old man, frail and shrouded in age, struggled to cross the room.The old man was a relic of a bygone era.
His thin frame seemed barely able to support the weight of his long, white beard and the sheen of his bald head.
Every step he took was accompanied by a soft, pained grunt, and he leaned heavily on a gnarled wooden cane that looked as ancient as he did.
Each movement was slow and deliberate, as though the effort of walking was an insurmountable task.
Elena's heart ached at the sight. She had come a long way, both physically and emotionally, to seek out this man.
