by Avery Cloward

Created on: September 07, 2008

Ethan Delkan could not remember a time before today that he had felt so immensely insane, so utterly frustrated, and so completely alone.

He felt insane for doing what he was doing now. What man would not? How long had he been staying in that one spot, simply sitting there? Half an hour? An hour? He didn't know, and he didn't care. Time seemed to have become nonexistent at his order recently. It wouldn't matter if it had been an hour, anyhow. He had nothing he needed to do; nothing he wanted to do.

And so, he stared at ants. He merely stared at those small black bodies scurry in and out of the dismal mound of dirt they recognized as a haven and a home.

A swift, wet raindrop suddenly fell from the sky, and spread widely as it landed on his brown coat sleeve. And, what was better, it was only the first of many. Perfect. It was raining. He stared up into the dull gray sky as clouds mercilessly pelted him with drops of water, and sighed. Rain.

That's life, he told himself miserably.

He felt so utterly frustrated. Frustrated with his life. He was sixty-seven, and not getting any younger. With the more years he put on, the bleaker life seemed to become, and less happiness was visible in his life. His hospital bills were enormous, and he still wasn't bringing in enough money from work to pay all of them off. Sure, the paycheck he had received earlier that day would help, but that was all it would do.

His work was dismal and dull, and his boss hated him. His brother was still in prison, and now somehow expected Ethan to get him out. What's more, his dog wouldn't eat. Even better, his house was a complete wreck ever since the maid quit.

But, that was life.

Worst of all was the feeling of complete loneliness that he could never seem to be rid of.

Alone. The word had a solemn, grim ring to it. He had heard it many times throughout his life, but never before had it sounded as ominous as it did now; now that he really was alone now that Arabella was gone.

No tears streamed down his cheeks at the thought of Arabella, no physical shows of emotion; but in his heart the immense pain began to well up once more, the pain that had replaced the empty hole in his heart where Arabella had once been.

What good would tears do now, anyhow? Arabella, his wife of thirty-four years, was gone, burieddead. The thought pained him more than words could ever express, but he couldn't do anything to help it.

Whether he liked it or not, that was life.

His eyes were once again attracted to the ants furious

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