Lone Karen Carpenter

There’s a faint sound that lingers in the air as I turned the TV off.

I sniffed back the tears that never came to be. I laid down and stared at the sky through the living room window. I’m alone with that one star that flickers strangely. Like a moth, a firefly on the verge of death, slowly extinguishing its light.

I thought about love, of happiness. How nothing in life is both beautiful and true — at least that’s what I picked up from reading too much novels written at least a decade ago. Or has it changed already? Why did I suddenly thought of such things? Am I deranged? Am I too alone? Do I long for something, someone fervently? Maybe. Maybe not. I sure hope not.

My mind was almost blank, just a few thoughts that needed cohesion. So I can write them down.

I looked again and the lone star shone brightly like a miniscule sun. I began to play Karen Carpenter’s voice in my head, slowly hummed it, as a single tear escaped my eye.


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