The room was dark, a pair of black curtains prevented any light from entering. In the centre of the room lay a patient; he was hooked up to an assortment of machines. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic beeping of a heart-rate monitor which reverberated throughout the room.

For a moment, the room was illuminated as light spilled in from the corridor. A young doctor with dark brown hair entered, accompanied by an even younger assistant.

‘Be careful of this one,’ said the doctor to his assistant, who was writing into a small notepad sporadically.

‘Yes, sir. Leprosy was it?’

’’That’s right. You don’t want to get too close them.’

The doctor cautiously navigated the room, checked some of the equipment, then left, throwing the room into darkness yet again. The patient woke several hours later, struggling to sit up. He looked around, hoping that someone else was there, though it was to no avail. He should have known better by now. Solitude had become a natural part of his lifestyle.