The house always looked dark, even when the lights were on. Years ago there was a small yipping dog in the yard that showed that someone was living there. In the Winter there were car tracks to show someone left or had come home.
Then the doggie died.
It was hard to tell if the occupant was home or not, with a job that required him to be gone 3-4 weeks at a time.
Then there were no more car tracks.
Then there were the ambulance and police.
The car was in the garage, and the man in it, dead.
What a sad life, and I feel guilty that I never knocked on the door with Christmas cookies. He had parents, who did not visit until he was dead.
The house went up for sale.
But it is seldom that I walk past and not think about the man who committed suicide, so lonely in such a small town. Lord, forgive me.
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