Dining alone, a symphony of solitary echoes.

The soft clink of a fork touching the plate.

Raindrops dancing past the window. Each

droplet traces a solitary path down the glass

Every bite becomes a reminder of lost dreams.

With the table as a silent witness. But in the

silence of those lonely meals, there is hope. A

chance to break that silence, a chance to nourish

the mind in the midst of that mess. It is the quiet

beauty of one's own company.