He was not like us. He smiled to himself when nothing external seemed funny. He hummed jolly tunes a little louder than was necessary. He was not like us in the sense that he was, supposedly, a happy man. I had my doubts about his sunny disposition. Over tye years I've developed a skill that allows me to see through fake smiles and jaunty jingles to the cold truth that, deep down, we're all as miserable as eachother. He was not like us. He danced to inaudible music. One hand crossed over his chest, the other held out in the air,spiralling around the vast living room with an invisible partner. His red and gold embroidered roles trailed out behind him as he span. This invisible partner replaced Elizabeth. Her dress flowed out behind her as her phantom moved with his steps. She was not like us. She had been curious. A curiosity than ultimately led her to her death. She was a young woman when he found her. Tangled amongst the throws and the weaving vines. The ruby leaking from cuts and scrapes in her pale skin mirrored the colour of her soft lips rather nicely. The moral of the story here being; cover your veins and throat before exploration. He was an old man now

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