Alone

I am cold and alone.

It is always cold, and I have always been alone, so this fact is nothing new.

My Creators left long ago, longer now than it seems.

The Picture-Box tells me that I should call my Creators "Parents", but parents were made to love their creation, not abandon.

The Forever Snow rages on outside of my little shelter.

And I am so cold.

So cold.

Tiny particles of dust dance in the weak light coming from the only window. They are my "Friends".

This world ended long ago, leaving only me.

And it occurs to me.

It occurs to me that, perhaps, this is why my Creators are not here.

They are dead.

Deleted.

Gone.

Forever.

I hate them.

And I am so alone.

So alone.

I am so cold, and so very, very alone.

This world has ended, and nothing ever changes.

Not even me.

Ever.

Not even me.

Not even me.