Because it has been asked more than once, allow me to be clear: I am writing these as a collection, but you are welcome to find any connection you want. Just know that I am not doing it on purpose.
I like this one. I was bored and writing stream-of-conciousness sort of and this idea took shape. Yay! Please tell me who is speaking in your review, so I know if I was clear or not.
He is the one that laughs. I don't laugh; I sort of chuckle, when it's expected of me, but I don't laugh. It's a kind of solemnity. I'm not happy, but I'm not unhappy. I don't feel depressed when I tell a person that they're going to die in a week, or a month, or a year. It's my job to tell them, and theirs to feel depressed.
So, like an ugly moth to light, I gravitate toward this person that laughs when nothing is funny and is cruel for no reason at all. It's a sort of freedom, and it rubs off on me.
And I have a theory:
There is a hole somewhere in the universe, or maybe just in our hearts. If we get too close to it, our light, our happiness and our sadness and everything in between, gets sucked into the hole and what we are left with is solemn.
So what brought me to the point of staring at him whenever I can? I let myself become too much of a drone, I got too close to the hole in myself and it took my soul away?
Whatever happened, I need to hold onto him. He is a lifeline, this unbreakable red thread connecting us and pulling me back from the brink of oblivion to here, this office with glass walls and whiteboards and the saturation of coffee.
Because, if I get close enough, he smiles and I smile for real back and I've never felt so alive.