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Lost

He comes home one day to find the house empty. She is somewhere else, doing something else. "Don't wait up". Her voice echoes in his mind, the only lifeline he has, reassuring him that the life he had been living everyday for almost a year wasn't a dream.
Loneliness seems so alien and yet so familiar, like an old friend who came back to visit. The awkward silences when no one knows what to say weren't so long before. He had forgotten what they used to talk about or do together.
He fires us the computer and decides to blog about his indecision.
Writing about himself in third person is an out-of-body experience.

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