text: 'I’ve got a plan.' she started typing, using only her index fingers, slowly pressing them on the keyboard. Joyce darted her eyes up and down as she composed her message, ensuring she didn’t mistype a letter. She had been waiting for weeks to bring up her brilliant plan to Ernst but had been uneasy about doing it till now. She thought it improper to initiate such a thing and rather have the man suggest it. So, finally, after weeks, he had mentioned doing what she desired. Escaping the old people’s home. The main hall was filled with wide chairs, old books, channel ten replaying the events of the Bachelor, attentive staff and old folk filling their limited time. Joyce hated it. What a way to spend your final years she often thought. Cooped up in here like a bunch of clueless chickens. There was one computer available to them, for those who knew how to use it, to email their families and whatnot. After forcefully being moved into elderly care, she had no idea how to spend her time and didn’t enjoy the leisure activities they provided. How pointless she found physical recreation, moving her thumb to each finger, twiddling her toes and lifting her arms up and down as though that would keep her alive. “Come on Joyce, how about some enthusiasm today?” preached the trainer, continuing to wave her arms up and down, leading the rest. Joyce just rolled her eyes and gave her a dirty look. Her two sons moved her in after she accidentally reversed her car into a lamppost, and she was yet to forgive them for that. “I’ve been an excellent mother to you both”, she retorted, “Is this was I deserve, it was dark anyway, the lamppost should have turned on!” But there was nothing she could do; it was all her children needed to put her in the old people's home. They never told her much about where she was going or what the facility would be like, only that it was one of the nicest and had the best reviews. Upon her arrival, being wheeled up the ramp against her will, it was much larger than she expected. A two-story complex, with large open windows, an inner courtyard with a heated shallow pool and many benches to sit in the sun. How insulting she found it all, they would all struggle to get upstairs, why were there such large windows, so they could stare into the continuing world that didn’t include them, why wasn’t the pool freezing so it could numb their old jiggly parts and she wished the garden wasn’t so scenic, as it reminded her of how she met her late husband. She loathed the place from day one and wasn’t willing to give it a chance. But she needed something productive to fill her time or she’d appear dementia ridden if she sat around all day. Intrigued one day, she asked a staff member to assist her with the computer. They suggested she add herself to the facilities website, “You know Joyce, you might find it really helpful having an account on here, you might be surprised by how many emails you get.”, he declared. Joyce didn’t really know what he meant, but she knew emailing meant communicating with a person and that interested her. Anyone in the outside world would be better than in here, as she just got talked down to like a toddler. She began a correspondence with her granddaughter who lived overseas, studying abroad. Any other emails she got, she just ignored, until she got one from a man who claimed to be at the same facility as her. At first, Joyce couldn’t believe it, she would have seen another man using the computer, but his excuse was that he emailed from a personal laptop. He explained it was for face-calling his family, so he didn’t have to do it in the main hall. She could understand that, it seemed reasonable to her, so she continued emailing this estranged man. Their conversations continued for weeks, and they agreed not to speak in person for it might cause suspicion among the staff. A scandalous romance between two elderly folks. Joyce grew quite fond of Ernst; he had a lovely sense of humour, and they agreed deeply on the matters of the old people's home. The whole system seemed against them, they both knew full well that they were capable of caring for themselves and that it was only silly mistakes that locked them up in here. She asked about his story, and he replied that he was in there because he had purposely avoided some doctor appointments, his children took that as a sign he was in denial of his older age, which led to him being at the facility. The two emailed back and forth for weeks, like a couple of teenagers texting frantically, the only difference was they did not write with abbreviated words, spelling mistakes and little grammar. They both seemed to pour more fuel onto each other’s fire of fury against the old people's homes. Often making an amusing pun about the average food or how held back they were, and they just wished to live their lives without interference. Without a nurse coming with a satchel of medication each morning and without being in an environment where they were regularly seeing acquaintances being wheeled out in a body bag. It felt like a revolving door. And it was a Tuesday morning when their most important conversation took place. ERNST: Dearest Joyce, I hope you slept well. I found myself lying in bed this morning thinking, and excuse my language, but just bugger this. How about we leave? I know we both share a deep hatred for this place, and I know this might come as quite a proposal to you but if you were to consider this, let me know of your thoughts, otherwise, I will never speak of the matter again. Warm Regards, Ernst. JOYCE: I’ve got a plan, darling Ernst, I have been waiting for weeks for you to ask this. It is a fabulous idea and in my dull time here I’ve become quite familiar with one of the nurses’ routines. I believe if we are quiet and precise with our actions in a coming morning, we shall be able to leave undetected. From Joyce. ERNST: Dearest Joyce, that sounds brilliant. What are the specifics I should know about this plan? Warm Regards, Ernst JOYCE: Darling Ernst, if you wake up an hour before you normally do and meet me by the manager's office, we will be able to make a swift escape, as the head nurse comes early to open the manager's office, I know there are many key cards in a drawer. From there we just must be avoided being seen. And once we are outside, we make haste to the closest bus stop. From Joyce. ERNST: Dearest Joyce, it seems perfectly planned out. Shall we do this tomorrow morning? This has all got me quite excited and now I’m most enthusiastic to leave. Warm Regards, Ernst. JOYCE: Darling Ernst, I would love nothing more than to leave with you tomorrow. Though it does seem strange we haven’t met in person yet, I may have even seen your face and wouldn’t know it was you. Whoever you may be, please know I have become very fond of you these past weeks. And once we have successfully left, shall we go on an adventure together? From Joyce. ERNST: Dearest Joyce, it fills my heart with delight to hear you ask that, as I have developed similar feelings and would be most happy to accompany you on an adventure. Warm Regards, Ernst. Their fiery flame had grown into a cosy hearth. Ernst set his old alarm clock that night, an hour before the sun was to rise, as did Joyce. She lay in bed, snuggling into the blankets, dreaming of tomorrow, when she would escape and lay her eyes upon her mystery man. She managed to sleep, dreaming of a handsome man with as much clever wit in the emails, while he struggled to shut his eyes, overexcited by the aspects of Wednesday morning. The streets outside were silent, yet to become a beehive. In the twilight of the morning, leaving through a side door was Joyce and Ernst. He’d taken her hand and she’d blushed, as they danced away together down the sidewalk not daring to look back at the old people’s home that had been their prison for the past few months. If they didn’t have frail skin, white hair, and clothes that smelled peculiar, you would have they were a young couple in love running away together. They reached a bus stop and had just figured they’d play the senior card when they got on. “Where shall we go?”, asked Joyce, who couldn’t hold back her smile. “I don’t know my dear, wherever it takes us I guess,” he replied, comforting her in his arms. A bus came around the corner and pulled to the stop, “After you, my lady,” smiled Ernst, letting Joyce go first. “Thank you, good sir,” chuckled Joyce. Sitting near the front, enjoying the ride, as the sun slowly rose, they held hands, and you would think they’d been married for years. Alas no, they both knew death had his grasp on them, but they weren’t ready to be taken by him yet and certainly not in an old person’s home.