Pascal philosophized that all human problems stem from the inability to sit quietly in a room alone. He believed people fear loneliness because it forces them to confront their own anxieties, leading them to seek constant, often shallow, distractions. For millennia, humans have found ways to build relationships and propagate the species. Until now. What's changed? If media is to be believed, the younger folks just ain't getting freaky like their grandparents did. Josh was thirty-four years old and had never so much as held a woman’s hand. That was the line he liked to start with when he argued online. It had a certain tragic rhythm to it, something he felt people should recognize as proof of his personal deep injustice. Thirty-four years. As if time itself had wronged him. His bedroom was still the same room he had grown up in. Posters had been replaced with a second monitor and a ring light for recording videos no one watched. The carpet smelled faintly of dust ...
It began with shadows. His vision was already getting bad. Diabetic retinopathy. His great-grandmother had gone blind from it, but that was a long time ago. Modern medicine had come a long way since then. But his vision was definitely getting worse. His world was slowly growing darker and more shadowy. He'd come to terms with it. What he hadn't come to terms with - yet - was his Parkinson's diagnosis. He'd noticed his left forefinger was twitchy. It didn't hurt, and it really wasn't impacting his day in any big way. His doctor asked about it during an office visit. The questions kept coming, and soon he had ticked enough boxes to warrant the diagnosis. Parkinson's Disease. He'd had some of the early signs for a few years, but the doctor had initially chalked them up as resulting from the stroke he suffered. Ever since, he'd been moving slower. His voice was quieter and raspier. Constipation was common. He'd never slept well, but he slept worse...