The days passed, the sense of isolation growing more pronounced.
Phone calls from friends became infrequent, their lives moving forward without me.
The house felt both a refuge and a prison, its walls closing in.
At night, I lay awake, the silence a heavy blanket.
I replayed our conversations, searching for signs, for understanding.
But the answers eluded me, slipping through my fingers like sand.
As dawn broke, the cycle began anew, a perpetual motion I couldn’t escape.
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