No-one came around to his house yesterday. That's why he hadn't moved when his alarm sounded at 8.06. No-one came around to his house yesterday.
They should have done, of course. He'd sent the invites out - sealed each one with love and lavender. Imagined them fluttering to far off destinations like purple confetti catching the breeze. But no-one had been to his house yesterday.
It was gone midday now, and his dreams hadn't any place in his emptiness. So, he finally found himself stood out of his bed, sighed his way to the windowsill, drew back the curtains and yawned. And then he cried.
No-one had been to his house yesterday. He had died.
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