Theme Week 12: Eventide 1

A stack of unopened mail that’s been accumulating for months lies in a heap on the kitchen floor. The color of the stovetop is indiscernible under all of the goop that has spilled and been left to dry there. There is never anything but beer and sandwich fixings in the refrigerator and the occasional bottle of wine leftover from a date. Life doesn’t touch this house much. He moves in and out of it as needs must but mostly avoids the loneliness trapped between the walls. There’s a sinister silence that follows him from room to room. It makes him crazy to hear his name whispered by no one but shadows. He tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything that he can live just fine alone with his absence of memories but in the pale morning light when the end of the ragged sleep falls from his red and tired eyes there’s a rumbling inside of him and an emptiness that he just can’t erase from the other side of the lonely bed.