Eleanor walked in, sucking a tangerine popsicle with such intensity that you would think it could cure cancer.  Or loneliness.  The house looked bare, like someone hadn't lived in it for a while, but it had stayed clean.  Sticky, sunny drops of frozen tangerine concentrate landed on her shirt.
     "I wish there was an ocean," Eleanor said to no one; there was no one to say it to.
     The rain struck the window like friends leaving and the lightning crashed like heartbreak psoriasis.  There was only one thought in her head: alone.  She began to recite a song,
     "We didn't choose to be alone, but now we can be alone together..." her voice trailed off as a bride's dress would down the aisle.
     Eleanor put her hands and right cheek to the window.
     "Look at her," she thought, "She's so lucky.  She hasn't a problems."  The thunder shook the window as though it was nodding in empathy.
     Eleanor sat on her bed, wondering whether she should get up and if the ever would.  She rolled over and took a last shot of coccaine.