True, there's no one to throw that painful Frisbee with, and the neighbor's basketball hoop is decidedly less-used. There's much less conversation in the evenings, and nights are a little colder. But contrary to popular belief, loneliness doesn't make colors more dull or music less melodious (more poignant, though? Perhaps). It could be that I'm not feeling the effects enough; they say that when you go through a trauma of the heart food tastes like ash and drink tastes like ash and grass is brown and life just sucks. It's quite possible that my persistent optimism and self-delusion is preventing me from being devastated. It's hurts; it sucks, it really does. But astoundingly -- and against all odds -- life goes on.
Post Scriptum: The stars, however, are much colder (but still as beautiful, in a way) than they ever were before.