As the boy sat on his bed, it began to grow dark. It was a small room, with a single bed and a cupboard. He watched the shadows creep into his room. He drew his legs closer, watching intently. And as it grew dark, he started talking.
He told the darkness how his day was. He talked about what he had learned in school. How me made a new friend. And how his teacher smiled at him. He talked about the pranks he thought of. And how he was tensed about the exams. He told the darkness that he hated the food there. And how there were spiders on his wall. He rocked back and forth. The darkness was almost at his feet. He shivered as it touched him.
He would wait for the darkness every day. Feeling his pain wash away as it engulfed him. He sat there, on his bed. Wishing the sun would go down faster. He sat because he was alone in this world. And as darkness fell, he would see his mother.
His mother. She had told him to look for her in the darkness when it had so coldly taken her away. She would always be there she promised. And so he would great the darkness every day.
As the boy sat on his bed, he reached out with his hand. Longing for a touch, a caress. He stayed that way a long time. And when he shed the first drop of tear, a single word escaped his lips.