The soul of Henry Jones

By Ray Cummings
At the age of thirty-two Henry Jones awoke one brilliant summer morning with the sudden realization that the soul in him was starving. He lay quiet, staring idly at the white ceiling above the bed, his mind groping dully with this abrupt enlightenment. After a moment of mental confusion—for the enormity of the conception stirred him profoundly—he raised himself upon one elbow in bed and looked at his wife who lay sleeping beside him.
He had always thought her pretty in a quiet, unobtrusive sort of way. He did not remember ever having noticed before the wrinkles that were beginning to show around her eyes, but he could see them there now, plainly. And her neck seemed very thin and stringy, and the line of her lean jaw very sharp. That he had never noticed before either. The thin locks of straight black hair that were spread upon her pillow were shot through with gray. The vision of a great soft, fluffy mass of wavy golden tresses flashed into his mind—the crowning glory of no particular woman, but just an abstract picture.
Henry Jones shivered a little and fell to staring at the round white face of the tiny alarm-clock on the bureau. Then, after a time, he found himself thinking that it was unusually early for him to be awake, for the clock hands pointed to half past five.
He slid noiselessly out of bed. For a moment he stood irresolute; then he began to dress swiftly, watching his still sleeping wife with a furtive air and feeling somehow very guilty. When he was fully dressed he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and paused an instant to view the completed picture.
The mirror showed a short, rotund little man in a light gray suit, with a narrow black leather belt that bulged out prominently in front; a round, pink and white almost cherubic face, with light blue eyes, eyebrows so light they were almost unnoticeable; and sandy hair with a tiny bald spot on top.
But what Henry Jones saw was a pair of sad, wistful eyes with the soul shining out of them—a soul patiently yearning for the satisfaction of its desires.