Darkness was all he knew. The world empty of color. Of hope. Empathy. There was nothing but shadows, painting the walls black. Shutting out the sounds of love. Beauty. For so long that’s how it was. No light. No anything, except his trilling thoughts. Stagnating his mind in bitterness. In all the things he taught himself. Dwelling. He couldn’t remember when it was that the darkness first came. Life in the time of the light was so long ago. Cracked smiles. Broken glass. Old photos fading on the floorboards. Dusty. Cobwebbed. Things he would never get back. Things, he convinced himself, he didn’t want back. I don’t deserve it… There was a melody once. That much he could recall. The soft piano echoing through white-washed halls. The gentle pitter-patter of rain. The smell of spring—damp and lively outside the living room window. The little things, that when he sat and thought about, would make…
