The wheels on the wheelchair only stops during meals. However, on any other part of the day, the wheels, at a constant slow rate, go around and around. The Man, who occupies this chair, makes the constant turning of the wheels his job. The Man gets up early, places himself in the wheelchair, and begins rotating the wheels. The Nurse at the home admires him for his persistence. She expects him to be turning the corner every ten minutes. And the Man is always there, right on the dot. He rolls slowly around the hallway, having trouble wheeling around the corner. As he rolls down the hallway, and the Nurse stops her charting to watch him. His small feet are what move him forward in the chair. His face is blank, looking forward at a goal ahead of him that he tries to reach. This goal, unknown and most likely unachievable.
The Nurse has heard rumors about his past life, the days before he found himself at this nursing home, turning corner after corner. She heard of his adventurous life as a secret agent for the government. The Nurse has been finding herself lately imagining his past life. Imagining what kind of man he was, what missions he went on. Those now glossed over eyes of his have probably seen death, love, and adventure. His body, once young and strong, has probably been to many places; places odd, dangerous, pleasant, and uncomfortable. His feet have probably walked among many terrains. But now, they walk here. Slowly moving forward on the tan carpet of the Nursing home.
Great use of third person here. It’s interesting how we dip into the nurse’s imagination.