Dweller in Oblivion

Severely depressed after several difficult lonely years, he spends his days sitting silently in his bedroom with the lights off and the blinds drawn, chain-smoking cigarettes, eating very little, filled with vague terrors and a limitless desperation, his mind wandering in dark and troubled zones. Scanning the newspaper for omens of the apocalypse is his sole remaining pleasure. “Metaphysical rust has clogged all mechanisms,” he whispered into his microcassette recorder, huddled under a blanket in a corner of the bedroom in the small hours of the night. “Everything’s ending here.”

The Mission is Terminated | Fiada Fey