Vousielle

Lonely. He sits in front of his computer now, more than he ever used to. The books have piled up on the dusty shelves, read, every last one of them. There was light in the room once, but the bulb is long since burned out. The only light comes from the glow of the monitor. Just a week ago he was surrounded by happy friends and was even beginning to consider them a family. “Where did they go?” he wondered, mind darkening at the thought. They were not dead, they were not even away. They just didn’t care and didn’t bother. He hissed as he stormed from his hard wooden chair in front of the monitor, his temper rising with