And he slipped into the chamber. The chamber was too small for him, too small, really, for anything but his heart, but nothing could contain his heart then, and so the chamber was infinite. And he let himself go, felt the words surge from his throat, a guttural cry, a feral I love you echoing through the forever of the chamber that was nothing. And because the chamber was his alone, no one heard. Quietly, he left the failing chamber into a world of silence, and still no one heard. But the cry, the chamber, they were always there in his mind. And the happiness, the joy, the unending passion that everyone was allowed but himself, they were there too, if only in his dreams.
