Recluse

A brilliant, social man the kind who's always surrounded by friends and never short on conversation suddenly finds his life upended when a violent outbreak forces everyone indoors. At first, he assumes it's temporary. He fills his days with books, projects, and thoughts of what he'll do when the world returns to normal.

But soon, the WiFi cuts out. His lifeline to the outside world vanishes. No news, no calls, no messages. He's left in a deafening silence he's never known before. Then, the letters start arriving. Handwritten, smudged, and delivered without explanation.

His friends write to him, describing what's happening beyond his walls. They speak of streets growing quieter, supplies dwindling, and hope flickering like a weak flame. Some letters are hopeful, others desperate. He clings to each one, reading and rereading them for comfort.

But he can't write back. No one tells him how the letters reach him or where to send his own. He's trapped in a one-sided conversation, his brilliant mind running in circles with unspoken words.

Days blur together. The letters keep coming, though less frequently. He waits for each one like a man starving, hoping for news, for answers, for connection. The world outside becomes a mystery he can't solve, and for the first time in his life, his mind feels useless.

All he can do is sit in silence and wait.