I believe it was in the middle of the night when I decided to head down the stairs. It happens more often than not- waking in the middle of the night. As I become conscious of my surroundings, I am filled with a sense of foreboding. The soft hisses and puffs escaping my loved ones lips while deep in the throes of sleep provide the only distraction from the all-encompassing silence. As I strain to hear the sounds of life surrounding me the ominous sensation of being alone, abandoned, is ignited within me. It feels as if my loved one have left and gone to somewhere that I am no longer welcomed and I must stay behind, long forgotten. As I open my sleep filled eyes the only object visible across the vast charcoal void are the numbers on the alarm clock, glowing a garish, violent red as if to
