You start in a room. There seems to be almost no light from where you stand. It’s a little dim, and you find yourself squinting to adjust to the darkness. Your hands extend in front of your body, slowly groping to make your way around the room.

Then you trip.

And you fall.

Then you get up.

The room is now pitch black. Your eyes are open, yet it feels like you’ve got them tightly closed. Squinting is no longer an option. So you close your eyes. It’s funny how your body is so acustomed to automated responses. You laugh and you listen as your laughter bounces off the walls in an almost mocking manner. You start fumbling around yourself for a source of light; perhaps a box of matches, a lighter. Fuck, how you wish you had a cigarette right now. Not so much for the light, but for the company.

It seemed so long ago that cigarettes under street lamps were enough to pacify the loneliness. The smoke that dances around your fingers enthralled you for infinity. It didn’t matter if there wasn’t a place to sit, you’d sit by the road. It didn’t matter if people stared as they usually did, you’d smile back.

You stand still and tilt your head upwards. You have no idea where the darkness ends. Almost like an upside down abyss.

Where does it end?