I meander around the empty house, confined by the vows of my life sentence. I eat, but I am still hungry. I sleep, but I am still tired. The emptiness cloaks me like the familiarity of a favorite blanket.
As I pass through the hallway to retrieve more wine from the kitchen, I hear the whispers of our guests over the laughter in the great room. “This house of two souls, so cold and empty. What a pity.”
Why was there laughter in that old house of two cold souls?
Fake laughter in a ghastly chamber – the reflex of social convention.
Acquaintances never to return.
And then there were two, left to seek the satisfaction that never comes.
Empty when they drink. Empty when they dine.
Empty when they laugh in the house where they are confined.