Alone

Unfortunately, loneliness compounds.

Photo by Ahmed Nishaath on Unsplash

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It is 6:50pm on a Thursday, he and I are sat on the bed in the dark room in silence, listening.

We listened to the sound of our breaths, and to Mummy ‘chosen’ telling her children to trail along behind her as they headed to church for mid-week service.

We listened for the far cry of children playing and singing in the background.

I complained of being lonely and said I wished the room was “fuller” this evening, and he said: “when you’ve been alone for so long, you start to get used to it.”

I think that was profound, for indeed it was. But I was conflicted and thus responded:

“I have been alone long enough to know that I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

I said that, and went back to listening.

There was silence before in the room, but this time it was quiet. It felt like a graveyard.

The darkness in the room began to blend kindly with our vision, the honking of weary motorists retiring for the day sounded impatient as it blared from the street close to the compound. Lights from the neighbor whose generator just came on, was beginning to crawl quietly inside, dodging the window blinds, sneaking its way onto the walls of the room, bouncing off and giving the room a warm silhouette leaving it looking like a picture of a painting.

I hear him draw a deep breath and heave a heavy sigh, and in a shaky, small voice, he said: “I don’t want to be alone too.”

— Mikayla.