The air was dense with the sweet indulgence of chocolate chip cookies. Her dry skin cracked underneath the flowing faucet where she cleaned the dishes. She cleaned, scrubbing angrily against the rusted pan. She pulled her distraught hair up into a top knot and pulled out a cigarette. Every drag lingered against her lips and the nicotine filled her lungs. She exhaled loudly and sipped her wine. Suddenly, the telephone rang and she put out the burning cigarette.

“Hullo?” she whispered while the cord stretched. Her dark brows wove
together as the faint whisper spilled secrets on the other side. Her heart thumped, heavy with the weighing anxiety, against her chest. She stalked the door, waiting for the lurking sadness to arrive. Her little Semmy, her muse.  His willowing body crumbled against the doctor's tight grip.  Entering the obscure house was a breathing corpse.  The discolouration drained from his droopy eyes. Emptying slowly into a hollow bucket of tribulation.  She covered her mouth as the doctor inched forward.
“Ms. Cappulino.” she nodded for him to finish. “Sem, has melancholia.”

He arose from the flannel lined sheets. The coat of sadness surrounding him as he could never seem to keep it down. Hung over the side of the bed, black projected out of his agape mouth. His hand clutched his stomach, untrimmed nails, dug into his swollen belly. His satin pajamas stained with a black glob of despair.
“Ms. Manon!” he cried while he violently punched his knee in anger. He screamed as the look disgusted him. His vision blurred as his lovely nanny quickly appeared.
“Oh my Semmy!” she scurried over to the bed and lifted the silky material off his gaunt body. She crumbled the soupy satin and ran her finger through his greasy hair.
“Why don’t I run a bath.” he nodded in response. His mind clouded with a storming forecast of darkness today. She smile slightly placing a sweet kiss against his dripping forehead. His body trembled with cold sweats as she exited the room. He crained his neck, tilted his head and watched. Children playing outside across the lawn. He threw his head  back and sighed. He picked up his book and began to enlighten himself.
“And so being young and dipped in folly. I fell in love with melancholy.” Quickly into the first few pages his stomach churned with fire as more congealed black bile forced out of his mouth. It continued to pour out of his orifice and soon his duvet was slimy with the residue of his regurgitated feelings. His scrawny arms struggled as he folded the duvet. The heaviness carried throughout his body. He stiffened. The ach chilled into the marrow of his bones.
“Semmy, the bath is ready my darling.” she sang as she returned fresh into his room. She scooped up the duvet, re-folded, and discarded the stained blanket. He gazed at his nanny while she carried him into the cold bathroom. His freckled framed eyes pierced a certain blue. Outer rim lining with sorrow, filling with a deep pool of anguish, and surrounding the pupil with a gloomy shade.  He shut his eyes tight, avoiding the recent eye contact. She kept silent, letting him sink into a calamity of thoughts.
Her vibrantly painted toes wrinkled against the warm rug. He tried his very best to help however the deep fatiguee always hindered with him. Her dry hands undress the boy and aided him into the bubbling bath. His weightless body sunk into the boiling water.
“The painters are coming for the bathroom on wednesday. I picked out a lovely yellow colour. Peculiar? Maybe we need some yellow in our lives?” she smiled as she lathered the soap on his translucent skin.
“We are a peculiar bunch Ms. Manon.” Sem smiled back. His teeth small and crowded by fleshy gums. He laughed jubilantly and splashed around in the tub with his rocket ship.  She started to scrub shampoo into his oily hair. Massaging his weakened scalp. She began to rinse his hair.
“I haven’t seen that lovely smile in awhile my sweet boy.” Sem frowned and laid back.  He thought, Sometimes I want to Miss. Manon. However, there’s always a fight. Happiness never wins. Sem shrugged, He continued to splash around, even holding his breath under water. He rose from the bubbles, with a hand squeezed tight against his stomach. Veins sprawled out along his body which was deteriorating into a thin overlay of bone. The black mush raised in his esophagus, which fired against the back of his mouth. He soon projected more dark fluid hoping he will finally be cleansed. The dark bile mixed with the immaculate water. His mind was soon to be engulfed with an everlasting sadness he could not bare anymore.
“I’m sorry.” barely audible whispers escaped his black crusted lips. His cheeks deepened with a scarlet. His round eyes forced the welled tears to burn against his veiny eyelids. His heart was burdensome thumping against his svelte torso.
“It’s alright darling.” She helped him out of the tub and wrapped him into a towel. She began to filter the bath water out of the contaminated soap.
“Let me fetch you some cozy flannels.” she swiftly left the room. On the counter facing him stood the unopened paint tin. He now released the swelling tears and let them fall. His heart heaved, gasping for air. He rolled his feet to remain firm on the ground. His hand was flat on the counter top steadying himself. With every ounce of determination he lifted his body to his feet. Slowly he dragged his lethargic legs and deteriorated over his wobbly knees. He crawled surely to the yellow paint. He snatched the paint bucket and found the lid half open. Without a question he brought the filled tin to his lips and gulped down the toxic happiness. He sobbed. Screaming in between every swallow.
“Why can’t I be happy!” he shouted. Eyes were hazed in a red gloss that stung with tears. Falling face first into the chemical substance. He let his eyes shut. Allowing to be taken over by darkness once again. 
“Sem!” muffled cries played against his ears. Ms. Manon fished him out of the faulty happiness. Violently shaking him, as sobs escaped her chapped lips. His eyes were coated with the yellow paint. His lungs flooded with toxic folly. Bubbling out his mouth was a mustard foam was he collapsed against her embrace.  And so being young and dipped in folly, I fell in love with melancholy.