Most men in his position would have laughed to hear him describe his life as lonely. He was constantly awash in well wishers and admirers, all of whom he was cordial with…though lately it had been a struggle. It seemed as though his research had changed him, brought him to a mental threshold of sorts. Now he found himself ever so slightly out of step with those around him. The effect was rather like a perpetual existence within a sealed black box. He could hear and speak to those beyond these new confines, yet he could never truly interact with them.
It was during his afternoon tea that he elected to escape this strange solitude by use of the very tool that had betrayed him, and condemned him to it, that being his own mind.