Maybe it just came upon them one day or one night when they were alone in bed, lost in memories saturated by regrets, sorrows, worries and troubles; lost in that mind of slight-confusion where they had reached the hundredth sheep and lost count. Maybe at this moment, they breathed in the darkness and it became their's. Like a broken switch that becomes a forever-attached dirty ornament on an unused shelf, it became part of them, part of their insides and it began to eat; feeding on them from within because it was starving, and just maybe it didn't leave.