There were too many hours in the day, and too few spent at school and the contact with the living world. His home was bare of life besides himself and the Voice wasn’t living, he was just a presence to reach out to.
No, he was quite alone when home; his father away at work (once again leaving as soon as he had arrived) while his mother and sister departed from the world. It was what brought him here to the park.
His tiny body sat on the park benched and he watched as the other children would play with each other. He wanted to join in, wanted to take part, but the others would always stay clear of him.
He wasn’t a freak! He was just… different… That wasn’t a bad thing though. Well he was told that made him special, and people don’t like special. A soft wistful sigh was uttered and he looked down and fiddled with his shirt.
He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, there would be no tears. He was a big boy, and big boys didn’t cry.