Bingo! A men yells from across the bingo hall. I look at the elderly man across from me. I look into his deep, blue, and dead eyes and they look as if his soul had been sucked out of him. He was not pleased losing that bingo game; he was so close to winning. His wrinkles rolling over each other as if they were harry caterpillars trying to roll down his face. As the caller yelled for a new game, the man gently stroked his grey, ash like mustache in disgust.