"Watching" by Clive Martyn

The old woman sat in a corner of the empty meal room in her wheelchair, facing the windows that overlooked the beach. The weak winter sunlight and grey skies made her look ghostly. Almost translucent.
"Who's that?" Abigail whispered, straightening down her new uniform which, annoyingly, was riding up already.
"Oh that's Mrs Fry, our oldest resident," Mrs Brown, the matron, said loudly, shaking her large dark chocolate bosoms in time with her head; a sign Abigail had quickly discovered meant disapproval. "She is always sat at the window between lunch and dinner. Watching the waves. We just leave her alone. Most of us know better than to try and persuade the old crotchety fool to join the others in the rec room. She doesn't have much time left anyway."
Abigail expected the old woman to turn or react, but she didn't; she just kept staring out of the window.
"Oh she can't hear us - deaf as a post," Mrs Brown said amused by Abigail's shocked look.
Abigail wondered for the second time in an hour if working here was going to be worth the minimal wage.
"Yep, won't be long now," she muttered, matter of fact, "so we just let her sit there everyday. She's happy enough.”
Mrs Brown smiled sadly and pushed Abigail gently away from the meal room. 
"Now let me introduce to Mr Sanders, he plays the piano beautifully and he is quite the old charmer. A lot of life left in him, I can tell you!"
As they left Mrs Fry sighed silently and stared down at her liver spotted hands. She had no tears left in her itchy red eyes, and little things, little hurts didn't bother her any more.
When she looked back up from her hands, he was there - down in the waves, his longboard under his arm, his wet suit half off, looking so young. His dark hair was being ruffled by the sea breeze, making him look like a movie star. A surfing Clarke Gable. So alive. Gorgeous.
It was sometimes quite painful to watch him as he strode along, his muscles taut ready for the waves, not a care in the world, free - a reminder of everything she had lost. Everything old age had taken.
Although it was occasionally painful; it was so enjoyable at the same time.
"I am not going anywhere," she muttered.
Smiling happily she wiped her heavy breath off the glass and carried on watching her young man.