Diary of a Nobody

I’m seventy-five, and as far as I know, I’m the last man standing.  I haven’t seen a saint or sinner for over twenty years.  Years of solitude, crazy years, sorrowful years.  How did it all start?  I have no idea.  Three days was all it took, and then it was all gone, everything, everyone, everyone but me.  Most died after a few minutes, some a few hours, but they all died – all died but me.

I live in this lighthouse, alone.  No dog, no pets, no one, just me alone…

I’m not a special person, no particular skills or abilities.  I was a postman, so I knew people, I used to know people… but that’s all.  I was a husband, but I’m not one now, never a father, and that’s kind of a blessing I suppose.

So, I’m telling this more for myself than for a reader, but somebody to read this would be nice, but if I met you I’d probably be very rude, and ask what took you so long?

So, this is my kind of diary, a diary of a nobody….

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