Mín frumraun í einhverjum skriftum. Ákvað að setja þetta hérna í örsögur þar sem atburðarrásin er lítil sem engin. Gagnrýni vel þegin.

There he sat once again in his living room as so many times before, thinking about death. He was almost out of cigars but his whiskey bottle was only half finished which gave him something to look forward to. Some hope, at least for the time being. The fire was still going. It crackled on with an eery dedication to survive. Like it was alive. It even had the power to give life as it animated all the shadows around him in a strangely depressing orange tint. That he could not tolerate. It was like the fire thought it had a sole purpose to subtly piss him off. The fire had been burning for quite some time now. He found that strangely upsetting considering the amount of wood he used this time, which wasn't much. “The damn thing should have died out by now.” he thought. “Persistent little fucker” He uttered in a drunkenly fashion which was accompanied with just the right amount of drool.

He wiped the saliva off his cheek using the sleeve from the robe his wife got him for their 20th anniversery. It was supposedly a very expensive robe, hand made from a cocktail of unpronounceable fabricks off the coast of some godforsaken place half a world away. She had told him to take very good care of it but he was long gone beyond the point of giving a shit. She died a couple of years back. Feeling betrayed in some unsettling and bitter way he hadn't yet been able to conjure up the common decency to forgive her for that.It was then that he noticed a strange mark on his wrist. Triangular in shape. “That's weird” he thought. He wondered where it came from and why he had never noticed it before. Was he just too drunk to remember or was his memory starting to fail in general considering his condition of old age, at least that's what he called it, a condition. That mark, he couldn't for the life of him remember seeing it before. He thought about that for some time. He felt baffled yet strangely amused which only managed to confuse him more. At least that mark got his mind of things, but only for a little while as the fire went out and left him in the dark. Again.

It was at this time he realized that the fire knew him just a little too well. Probably the only friend he had left in the world. As he sat in the now pitch black room he only managed to muster up one thought before passing out. He thought how familiar the darkness had become and wondered how soon it would become permanent.