Slow Writing Again

It’s just that this is as good a place as any, non?

Nobody likes going home alone.

It’s a fact: there’s not a soul alive who trudges home to an empty nest with lightness in their heart.

If I may be honest – and I’m nothing if not honest – some solitary nights I’d rather die than face that cold, dark house with its blank windows and ringing silence.

There’s an epidemic of it – loneliness I mean.

We’re all together, all the time: alone.

How comforting, to reach out and touch the face of a dear friend, and feel the cold glass that separates us all from reality.

Am I right? Tell me!

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