The Unrequited Love of 

The Lonely Man

Fearing he might never find his way home, The Wandering Lonely Man was startled as a figure began to materialise from the fog ahead. He breathed heavily, pausing as he opened his mouth to speak. He was unsure which words would emerge after so much silence. It had been so long since he’d encountered another soul.

 

Motionless and silent, the silhouette crouched atop a rock.

 

The Anxious Lonely Man nervously lifted his hand in a gesture of goodwill, hoping to convey friendly intentions, yet the spectre remained frozen. Before any words were voiced, the shape began to emerge. Though the presence remained motionless, the surrounding cloud seemed to part, eager to have them meet. In front of him, clear as day, stood the ominous character, and at that moment, he finally understood why they had remained unwavering. It was not a living, breathing being after all, but a worn statue of a young woman kneeling atop a plinth.

 

The Astonished Lonely Man stood there, mouth agape.

 

The statue's hands were cupped together as if waiting to receive or present something, her head gently bowed over them. The forlorn expression carved exuded an alluring sorrow, while the eyes were fixed upon her upright palms. Following that gaze, The Curious Lonely Man peered into the cupped hands searching for the object of attention. They were empty… perhaps they had once held something of significance, but now lost.

 

The grey stone woman radiated such mournful pleading that anyone who set eyes upon her for the first time could not have held back their weeping. With a heavy heart and tightening throat, tears streamed down his face. Years of loneliness reverberated from the statue, echoing deeply within him.