I worry about them, up there, alone. Each echo bouncing until he finds that resonance that breaks him away. Trapped. Maybe they know they are captives. I don't believe they know any other life, outside of that whisper loud chamber. I think about them, I can't help it. I know that I shouldn't, but I do. I know that I make it worse and if I was to try and help them it could ultimately make things much, much worse. So I try and ignore them, put them out of my mind. We do not depend on each other. Like living in a haunted house where the ghosts aren't ready to leave. You live among them, and sleep among them. You share the kitchen and bathrooms. Some ghosts prefer the study, while I prefer the parts of the house with fewer windows. We avoid each other all right. We have even developed some jokes of our own. None of them are very funny, but they can always temporarily lift the tension. It's better if you don't get too involved with a ghost. The more you know about someone the more you can hate them. And then you shout at them. You shout back and forth with pure revulsion, disgusted to know the other is among. It gets louder and louder until you break away, and the only thing left is an echo.