As her gaze played upon my features, mine focused nowhere but the featureless wall; the blaze of a candle flickering shadows away.
Empty is me as though she wasn’t there at all, no one to speak or hear. The cramped room with the single fire lighting nary the corners, but the space around it.
The hand of hers brushes these fingers of mine, lifting her grasp attempting to capture my own.
Though my hand drags away, confident in my contentment of isolation. Rising from my stone seat on the floor, my feet take me away.
Light from the screen beckons, a hand held out promising fulfillment. The arm of my being extends out, grasping the hand as she then lays her eyes on my back, turning away.
The hand from light strokes the palm, and the hand vanishes. My brain tells me in an unconvincing voice that personal fulfillment was succeeded.
Yet, despite how full I'm supposed to be, emptiness proceeds. I turn, wanting more as I look back toward her. She is gone, her eyes left; the candle erupted in the shadows.
Again, empty as I am, turning toward the light reverse of the candle. A single hand stretched out, looking for my grasp once again.
Do I really need to be filled? Will I actually be filled? Nothing tells me so. They tell me life needs filling, but life is high in calories. The light faded; the hands disappear.
I'm Isolated once again. Seemingly fired from my own preoccupation, I rest again, the body lying me down on the floor.
"I'll deal with that tomorrow." my brain tells me as these eyes shut. Sleep evades me.