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.