Bruno sat within his office, gazing at the picture framed and mounted on his desk.
His hands, weathered by age, grasped the edge as he lifted the frame closer. The silvered photograph caught his reflection in its glass, an old man staring back at the ghost of a youth long gone.
He had grown old… old enough that he was starting to resemble the age he had died at in his past life. Perhaps he was even a bit older, despite aging better this time around.
Gone was the clean-shaven face of a young soldier marching off to war. Now a finely trimmed grey beard framed his jaw, matching the full head of silver hair that still crowned him.
The wrinkles on his brow were fewer than one might expect for a sixty-year-old man, yet they were carved deep where decades of burden had found their home.
