The Count Of Darkness

The Count of Darkness

It was the epicenter of the early morning, when the hours felt dirty and thoughts had no filters. Elena woke up again and again, with the relentless ticking of the clock echoing in the solitude, a cynical reminder of wasted time. Insomnia was a lucid torture; her bed, a minefield where every memory exploded. The pandemic hadn't killed anyone, but it had massacred what was essential. Manuel, her intermittent partner, and Javier, her toxic best friend, were still alive. Their absence, however, was a slow poison: a collection of unanswered messages, broken promises, and an intimacy that had evaporated.

ELENA (Cold inner voice): The darkness is honest. I only have it to remind me how alone I am.