Loneliness.
... for it. And then aagian there is a pause and she is transfixed, still like the pillars of salt as she looks out of hte window as if for an answer. A tear makes its way alon the curve of her cheek. There is no number to dial. No name to ask for. No heart to answer to hers. Friends she has who she can impose upon but she needs someone else now. Who has the music to fill the desolate silence. Who has the strength to close the window and show her beauty inside the room. Who has the tears for her pain. Above all who has the name for her sorrow. Her yearning is like a knife, before she feels the sharp agony of blade piercing skin, she is aware of cold, britle metal pressing against her bare back. It is numb soon, the pain will return later, manifold, but right n...