She stared, dumbfounded, at the globular mass. The way it glistened in the candlelight, the way it pulsed like a still-beating heart . . . Somehow that served to fuel her gross curiosity with the thing. Anna was loathe to admit it, but she could sympathize with it. They shared something in common: loneliness . . . Crushing, burning loneliness.
Without a second thought she blew out the candle. In an instant she was cloaked in darkness . . . Cold, barren darkness. They would stay together in the dark, they would keep one another company.
Until she died. Or worse.
Anna closed her eyes, laughing silently. “No one lives alone, no one stays alone. Is that it? Is this your profound wisdom?”
The thing shivered; the sound reverberated throughout its quivering mass.
“You always have more to say.”