Marc-André Léger

Norbert and Melia

She was so utterly lost. The night sky was all wrong. Things that shone did so haphazardly, at what seemed like random intervals, their light was alien. Gone were the beacons, those guiding lights that were perhaps the only relatively constant thing she had known, except herself. And Norbert, poor old Norbert, half senile, half gone, greatly diminished but ever faithful and attentive.