Reality Paints Her World

She gets lonely sometimes. The aching in her chest, the yearning in her to find something more, is intense. It makes her body throb with an ache she knows she'll never know the end of if she continues on as she has been. Her life of solitary cannot alone sustain her as a human being. She needs contact with more people on a personal level.

Her work as a forensic anthropologist confirms that people need people. Sex and the resulting continued survival of the human race are only a few reasons behind that. Companionship is another. In the end everyone needs someone else and she is no different.

The fact she is alone doesn't bother her. She can handle herself perfectly well on her own. It's the silence that drags on for a minute too long and the words on her lips that she has no one to share with. It's the lack of another presence to tell her that she is not alone, though her scientific mind is well aware of that already.

Her life has been a lonely one and while it has defined her, it has also sectioned her off from the rest of humanity. Reality paints her world sharper than most others would see their own as. It's who she has become. She gets lonely sometimes but that's what makes her remember that she is only another human being among many feeling the pangs of isolation.