The fiery log burning slowly in the hearth let out a sudden pop and brought the man sat in the terracota single seater sofa out of his torporific reverie. Wrapped in a thick duvet and hunched over his laptop, he scanned the screen, squinting slightly at the small text of the semi-composed message in the twilight of the lounge.

The T.V. was set to a radio channel and was quietly chucking out some anonymous indie pop kind of love song. The man pursed his lips slightly, and rocked gently back and forth as he considered the final few words to finish off the message he had been writing for almost thirty minutes. Simultaneously attempting to think of something relevant and witty, something attention grabbing without being arrogant or desperate. Something that demanded a reply, in a good way.

Clammy fingers rhythmically assaulted the keyboard making only the slightest of light tapping sounds. Seconds, minutes passed as the music was drowned into the background by the sheer depth of concentration on the task at hand. Words poured forth and formed sentences, a steady stream of text materialising on the screen to the will of the author.

And then it was finished. A touch of the pressure pad, and the message scrolled back to the top. Eagle eyes pored over the writing with an eagerness bordering on obsession. Each passage tested by potent intellect for potential perceived hidden meanings and unintended double entendres. A spelling error was corrected and then it was done.

He sat there for a moment, wrists resting lightly on the edge of the laptop, mind warring over the final decision; go or no go. To send or not to send, that is the question. He brought his hands together, and rested the tips of his fingers against his pouting lips, frowning at the screen. Then opposing pinkies hit TAB and ENTER in quick succession, and further procrastination was rendered pointless.

A christmas ballad played its way lazily out of the T.V. The man leaned back in the sofa, cheeks burning from the heat of the fireplace and duvet combined. A part of him demanded to find something else to do, to move on to the next person he could message, the next girl he could flirt with online. Another part wanted only to sit and wallow in the lonliness of the room, the misery of his barren and solitary life.

Through a force of will, he leaned forward once more, and clicked 'home' on Facebook. He experienced a brief moment of trepidation as the page loaded. Hope sparked shortly as he waited, anticipation of news, or replies, or notifications filled his mind. But there was nothing. His eyes drooped down the screen, falling over the keyboard and coming to rest on the lump of duvet where his feet were most likely hidden.

The feeling that followed was only too familiar. The disappointment that filled his chest to the extent that it felt like he was crying on the inside. He stared numbly at his fingers and watched in silence as his left thumb picked listlessly at the nail of his right forefinger of its own accord. His eyes swam out of focus as he considered if it was worth bothering doing anything else. His hands involuntarily passed across the keyboard, running a check to see if any friends were online. the query drew a blank.

Once again snapping out of his introspection, he began a search of the facebook applications. Maybe something there would give him something worth doing. Maybe something there would help him meet other people. Something, anything to stop him feeling so very alone.