nightfall

19 December, 11.56 pm 

Here I sit alone, propped up in my snug bed - the last remaining object in what was once my homely room. The wall lamp bathes these pillows and quilts in a warm light, the solitary red bed standing silently by the drawn curtains. Every tap of a key on my keyboard is accompanied by an eerie echo that resonates against the bare walls. Now-empty shelves cast dark shadows upon the naked wood of untenanted cabinets, their rows of books and former inhabitants now crated, readying themselves for a voyage halfway across the globe. 

Here I sit alone, my mind clouded with thoughts. The present is eternity, the now, this eternal moment. But this moment has now faded and has become the past. We now stand in the future. And so the cycle repeats. Boxes lie in dusty corners, a haphazard skyline in their own right. I will soon put out the lamp, and night will fall upon this cardboard microcosm. 

Here I sit alone, feverish and aching. Illness has decided to pay me a visit, its malicious farewell kiss to me. My eyes cloud over, and I yearn for Sleep. But Sleep refuses to come. My body anxiously awaits the raps on that door; will Sleep come knocking? All remains silent. In this bed, the final keepsake of my blissful childhood, I prepare myself for the final slumber, for its crate arrives on the morrow. Au revoir. Auf Wiedersehen. 

Thoughts swirl. This chapter has exceeded its confines. It is overgrown, imprudent, excessive. It must end. My mind isn’t ready. No. Yet, it must. I hear my sighs in the echoes. All is still. 

I flick the switch for the final time. And with an imperceptible hum, night has fallen.