And he watched the traffic go by on State Street…saw a city bus stop and pick up people…standing in the cold with hats and coats on…gloves …smokin’ cigarettes…suckin’ ’em down to the filter before steppin’ up and placin’ their dollar in the slot…he liked watchin’ people…

The therapist asked him what the opposite of lonelyness was…he continued lookin’ out the big window at bare trees and white snow on the ground…rusted out pickups drivin’ by…cop cars too…and he thought to himself…what’s the opposite of lonely…

In the corner of the office was a small sandbox for kids to play in…conjure up thoughts while their hands dug in the grains…he walked over to it and put his hands in it…moving fingers all over…throughout the sand…burying one hand with the other…forming letters…she asked him again…what’s the opposite of lonelyness…

He breathed in deep…lookin’ at books lined up on her shelves…everything from Freud and Jung to Maurice Sendak’s, Where The Wild Things Are…he took his hands out of the sand and ran ’em through his black and gray hair…adjusted his glasses…and said…,I don’t know what the opposite is…to not be lonely…to have someone in your life…, the young therapist nodded her head…

Sometimes I think I’m better off by myself…,the patient said…,I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know…Even when I was married I felt alone…,she took a drink of coffee and asked him why that was…he went back to playin’ in the sand…back to where there was comfort…

I do get lonely…,he said…,I do…and you never get used to it…you think you do but you don’t…just a constant state of wanting…just wanting…,he wiped the sand onto his pants…,I don’t know if that’ll ever stop…bein’ lonely…Is time up yet…I need to go…

The therapist walked the patient to the front door…he asked her…,do you ever get lonely…,she just smiled…