The mansion creaked lightly, its old and worn exterior belying a man's tragic loss of wealth and family. The interior space, comprising twelve rooms of the same shape and size, was a broken mess of old chipped wood. It was evident that the years had taken their toll, even on the walls, which were mostly covered in the same old paint color of blue.The bed was a silent reminder of the man's solitude. It creaked when he shifted positions in the night, a sound to drown out his loneliness. The birds outside continued to add to the morning frenzy, a call to rise, a call to break the calm that seemed to envelop him when he was alone in his mansion. They called, but he stayed asleep, the peacefulness of his slumber his own refuge from the world that moved on so quickly around him.The sun had finally risen fully, its warm rays filtering in through the thin material of the curtains that covered the room. Dave awoke from his slumber, the peaceful calm he felt slowly fading away as he gained consciousness and became aware of his loneliness once again. He was no stranger to solitude, but even so, its constant presence was a heavy burden to bear.Dave slowly got up from his bed, like waking up from a blanket made of webs.He rose up slowly,his bone creaked like woods that have been used for century and is that just awaiting for its end.Dave slowly rose from his bed, each movement a reminder of the passage of time that ravaged his body, making it feel as though each joint was wrapped in a blanket made of webs. With each movement came the inevitable cracking of wood-like bones that had withstood the ravages of centuries. His waking from his slumber felt like awaking from old age, his body merely awaiting the end that finally awaited it after a long, hard life.Dave's steps slowly and gingerly traversed the hallway, each step fraught with caution due to the abundance of broken glass and chipping wood. The mud that still covered the hallway from the light rain three days before had dried, creating a layer that covered the old wood and cracked glass that lined the hallway on both sides. Each step through the hall created an echo, the noise a stark reminder to the man of his loneliness, his old age alone in his mansion as time marched on, indifferent to his existence and solitude.Dave entered the kitchen, only to see a loaf of bread wrapped in a white cloth and a half-full jar of butter that lay right beside it. He gently removed the white cloth from the bread, revealing its soft, golden-brown structure. Without a knife or spoon, he simply dipped his finger into the butter jar and spread it across the bread, covering its surface in a thick and creamy layer. A meal worthy of a king, the simple bread and butter was all that Dave could afford, its warmth a comfort to him in his solitude."Dave's garden, once a refuge of beauty and a gathering place of memories for him and his beloved, had gone neglected and fallen into disrepair. Dead roses, dried up from lack of water, dotted the grounds, their once beautiful blooms now faded and dried. Dave walked through the sad sight, each step evoking new waves of sadness and memories of the life that had once been filled with love and promise. He eventually sat down at the tombstone of his beloved, his wife's name carved into its top. He wept until night finally crept in, engulfing the sun in darkness.Dave wept until the dirt around his beloved's grave was saturated with his tears, its dry soil now transformed into wet mud. He finally picked himself up and took the same path back to his bedroom, where his old bed lay, unchanged from the morning. He once again submerged himself under the blanket, ready to sleep through the night. But this time, he would not wake to see the sun's warmth again, leaving only an empty body to greet the new day.