The fireflies sparkled in the breeze, a view that Pavel always enjoyed. Their wings fluttering, their subtle light accenting the colors of a setting sky, watching them flit about was one of his favorite pastimes. After all, there was nothing to do now since they all went away, but that didnt matter, what mattered was watching the fireflies flitter and float so effortlessly through the air around the creek. They had a certain tranquility that drew Pavel to them amidst the crackling that now permeated the air constantly. But now at night that droning had cut out and he remained under his bridg. However, after some time spent in the dark he knew it was time to return back to his home. Home was a loose word for Pavel. It was wherever he decided it would be for the night, and tonight it was the top floor of an old townhouse. It was a nice house, overrun with vines and generally reclaimed by nature in all manner of ways. He returned to his room, at least the one he declared it to be. It was a small room, however Pavel thought it more as cozy. The room once could have been described as a playroom, one that was probably filled with toys and smiling children, however those days were long ago and now the room sat quiet and tranquil, illuminated by the dim light of Pavels lantern. As the light dimmed further and Pavels thoughts drifted to the peacefulness of sleep the sounds of a once bustling street filled with nothing more than the chirping of crickets and the whistling of the wind. One wouldn't be wrong to make the assumption that Pavel was lonely, however he was quite the opposite. He enjoyed the solitude. It allowed him to reach for pursuits without the previous interdiction of the woes of life, with the overwhelming noise replaced by a constant tranquility. Come next morning Pavel was up with the rising sun, a view always enjoyed in his flexibly rigid routines. As always he prepared himself oatmeal. This morning it was  peaches and cream. He enjoyed the breeze out on the back porch and listened to the birds sing hoping his favorite might appear, the cedar waxwing. With no school to attend, no boring lectures to listen to he could pursue his own studies.  Among his varied interests were birds.  While he may not have spotted his favorite, a close second did appear, the ever common black capped chickadee. He enjoyed their playful nature, dancing about the bushes and trees. Once he had finished his oats, he set out again to head to the bridge which was around a 2 hour walk. It  wasn't an issue as he enjoyed taking in all the sights along the way. Up first was the park which all the dogs had claimed for their own, Some people may have once been scared of a massive pack of dogs, however Pavel had given them scraps of bacon the week prior, and continued to do so, so they had learned to trust him and he in turn trusted them. One would again be forgiven for thinking that Pavel never spoke for he had no one to speak to, but that assessment would be wrong. Sometimes he did speak to them but not intentionally, stammering out unheard to anyone else “H-Hi Bubby”  even yet they still always listened to him something that he took to heart very well. There was always one that seemed excited to see him though, a Bernese mountain dog he thought it was. Unnamed, as Pavel had never been particularly good at naming things, but he enjoyed its presence nonetheless, its tail wagging upon the mere sighting of him. It was nice to be appreciated in this world as before not many had been. Pavel eventually bid the dog farewell, with it walking back over to its pack. Pavel did sometimes miss company as well but those who were willing to put up with him were few and far between. But now he enjoyed the company of all and they seemed to put up with him, and so he continued. Counting any new flowers or plants along his way, he had always kept his eyes peeled for columbines which were his favorite. However on his way to the bridge he spotted none, a frustrating occurrence. But now that time was of his least concern, he would be bound to have another opportunity another day. It was not worth it to get upset over such things anyway. As he approached the outskirts of the town the buildings became fewer and far between and the sound of chirping crickets began to replace the whistle of the wind. He began to see his beloved bridge grow ever closer and closer, and the fireflies flitting atop it bringing a joy to his heart that could not be described. As he finally stood atop the bridge he thought to himself “What a beautiful night”