She waits. How long has she waited? She has no idea. Time is meaningless to her and is only measured by her degree of hunger. She recognizes an increasing pain in her abdomen so she knows much time has passed.
He stares into the nothingness he knows is his ceiling. Years have passed since he slept late into the daylight. He awakens now every morning to the lonely darkness and he weeps.
She remembers a time when life echoed off the walls of this home. She dreams, if for no other reason, to forget the hunger.
His aged limbs refuse to awaken and carry the weight of his body; he stumbles. The sound his head makes as it contacts the corner dresser he thinks is almost humorous. He knows the scene is far from funny though as one eye is filled with what must be the blood ushering out of a gaping wound. He grins before passing out, thinking, “maybe I’ll sleep late after all.”
She wanders down the hall and peers into her friend’s sleeping room. Still sleeping, she whimpers. She licks his awkwardly stained cheek but he just lies there. She waits.