It took only a breath, a gasping breath like the kind one would make after holding their lungs closed for an eternity, and the old man opened his eyes. His aching hands ceased throbbing, his swelling in his back calmed, and soon, he realized, he was his old self.
He could move without creaking. He had muscle tone. Even his dried, prune-ish face had smoothed. He was young again. A broad grin stretched from ear to ear, and he used his cane as a dancing implement instead of a crutch.
Spinning on the heels of his shoes, the gunslinger held the cane close to him, and danced. Happily, he used the canes handle and lifted the Fedora from his head, and tossed it in the air, catching it on his head crookedly when it came down.
For several minutes, he was in pure bliss, nothing could phase him. Slowly though, reality returned, and the soldier stopped dancing. The well dressed thirty year old looked out and took it all in. In his immediate surroundings, the world was bright