The Void Inside

Robert’s first recollection of the sense of loss was just before he turned 13-years-old: there was a hole somewhere in his body, maybe the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t be quite sure. His birthday passed without any real event or celebration. Several of his friends had arrived and enjoyed some takeout pizza followed by watching a handful of videos (but nothing too graphic, for that would have peeved his mother).

But there was still this void in Robert’s body. Could it be a missing gumdrop or a lack of a gummi bear? He always fretted that maybe what he was missing couldn’t be simply described by one word. That maybe it was something important.

Eight years passed before Robert found out what was missing. Robert awoke close to midnight, a cold sweat covering his body, yet he was distracted by the soft light that gently soothed the room. He turned over – expecting to find that he had accidentally left the lamp by the doorway on – to view a shimmering spectre gently setting upon his easy chair.

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