the dragon hadn't slept in years. he'd developed quite a taste for amphetamines sometime in the sixties. people were born, lived their lives, and died, all in one long day to the dragon. he faded in and out of the world, remembering bits. he didn't know when he had moved to this house. or when he'd gotten half his tattoos and most of his scars. sometimes he would look at the woman next to him and realize he didn't know her name, a lot of those times they were wearing matching wedding bands.
this particular morning he was alone.
he shook a little, the ash falling off his cigarette. he walked out of the bedroom. none of the people who were normally around his house were anywhere to be found. he sliced himself a line and looked at it.
"where are my friends?" he said.
"you don't have any." the line responded.
"where did they go?"
"away. out. gone."
"but why?"
"who knows? they were assholes." the line looked apologetically at him. "i'm still here."
the dragon tried to take comfort in this, but something troubled him.