Once upon a time there was a lonely boy.

He had no family, no friends and no one to love.

He cried a lot. He didn't remember the last time he laughed.

He didn't remember his life before he was sad.

He didn't remember his life before he was lonely.

He didn't remember his life before this darkness that was around him.

He didn't know what day it was.

He didn't know what he should do.

He didn't know anyone. No one.

He wandered through this dark, sad, lonely world. Alone.

During his journey without destination he met many people.

Blank faces. Nobody he could, would or should remember.

He just had one memory of one person.

A silhouette.

A smile. Warmth. A home. A family. A friend. Somebody to love.

Only feelings remained, slowly fading.

It was his happiest memory.

He felt lonely.

People didn't care. But he cared. He felt love. He was happy with him.

One day he woke up. He was in pain, but wasn't hurt. Not on the outside.

When he looked around he saw nothing.

He was alone. So he began walking.

Because that's what he always did.

Walking.