（2015•广东佛山）
Bert Manson, 82, slowly opened his eyes and turned to face the clock on the bedside table. It was 8:23 a.m. He felt1. The time was nothing to him. He had nothing to do all day. He lay on the bed, 2 to the cars on the highway and the shouts of the children running to school.
After a while, Bert 3 got out of bed and asked himself the same questions as he did every morning: Would he fall today? If so, would anyone come? How long would he 4? Would he die? He looked out of the window into the street below. “And who would 5?”he spoke quietly.
After Bert's wife died a year ago, his son and daughter said they would visit once a week. But the last time was months ago. On the phone, they always had a(n)6: too busy at work; the children are 7; bad weather; no time. Nobody seemed to have any time…except for Bert. He 8 his granddaughters. He loved it when Mandy and Ruth came to visit. They brought him candy and 9.
He walked to a chair near the bedroom door 10. He rested for a moment before continuing in small steps to the bathroom.
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