Mindhugger
It was busy in there. You were sat alone by the fire, just another night, staring into the embers. We were all together, talking loudly; I asked if we could sit at your table. You gestured your acquiescence. You seemed quiet, lost in your own space. We wanted to draw you in, help you feel included. Somebody invited you to join our conversation.
You spoke.
We staggered away from the table, some sobbing, some laughing hysterically. Each of us left alone that night, and walked in a different direction. The shrapnel from your words lodged into each of us. You remained impassive, eyes on the fire as I left.
I have never been back, but over time your words have worked deeper. I have often thought of you, was there relief in a burden shared?
And we, your unwilling disciples, have not sought each other out. In fact, as I age, I find myself seeking the company of others less and less. I prefer solitude and the warmth of the fire.
