Paper Planes

Empty

He lied in bed at night and stared at the ceiling.

Counting seconds, counting minutes, counting hours.

Waiting for sunlight to stream through his curtains.

He listened to the house.

It seemed to be alive at night, with its constant creaks, and ticks.

Sometimes he believed the house was more alive than he was.

The dark didn't help, he thought.

It only made the empty space in his chest seem bigger.

He felt so empty.

He closed his eyes, he wished he'd just disappear.

But as he focused on the darkness behind his eyelids, he found another noise.

A noise that wasn't apart of the living house.

This sound came from within him.

He listened for awhile. The steady beat of his heart rang throughout his body.

He was alive, he thought.

He counted the beats of his heart.

1, 2, 3.

He was alive.