The room is unnatural. The lights are beginning to wane. The walls are too smooth. They creak, groan, and sigh, protesting against the wind that besieges their bones. He could really use some luck now.

Slowly, the creaking grows louder. Slowly, the walls come closer. It’s only a matter of time now.

The man presses against the cold metal wall with his rough palms. His rough palms lift a plate for inspection. Brand-new, it shimmers under the chandelier, like a twinkle in his eyes. The table is set. The candles, the roses, it’s all perfect. The woman enters the serene room, her dress billowing behind her as she walks. Time flies by as the chatter fills the cozy home. It is only few months later before the door is slammed and locked. She vanishes like a wraith.

It’s only a matter of time now. He remembers their last meeting. The casual stroll, the autumn leaves, only to be sliced apart by that one sentence. The calls, the messages, none of them were ever replied to.

He suddenly longed to be home, longed to just hide, to run away from this. The walls picked up speed, four concrete plates encircling the room. They inch closer and closer, until the creaking stops abruptly.

The darkness’ ebony body spreads over him. The walls are boxed around him tightly, unwilling to let go. A whisper descends on him—“You shouldn’t have, you shouldn’t have.” It’s sounds too familiar. Too familiar.

It continues.“It was perfect. Why did you have to do it?” The voice is ancient, grating against the air, as if an old man was speaking with the voice of a small child. “Why?”

The man shook his head, tightly holding himself in a fetal position. “Leave me alone...” Silence, the darkness whispers softly over his shoulder. “If you say so...” It retreats, drifting further and further away, like a door being opened then suddenly closed. The voice stops replying—nothing responds, not even the dwindling shafts of dim light. Silence, time, it all swirls in his head, whirling about with the perfect autumn leaves.