Turning off an alarm that rings into a quiet house. Shutting the door on an empty house. Walking into an echoing corridor. Boarding a bus with just one commuter. Walking by the summer trees on evenings that refuse to end. Kicking pine cones down the hill with no one to block paths. Sitting in honey-dipped nights occasionally lit by a stray rod of cold, white lightning. Falling asleep to lost shooting stars.
Suddenly, being completely alone has become more crushing than usual.