Alastor

Alastor was sitting on his bed, closing his eyes heavily and sighing deeply

He looked at his microphone in silence while frowning, letting his smile fade, for alone with his microphone, he could be who he truly was

His microphone was an extension of the soul of its owner, the woman with whom he had made a contract, a contract that would last until the end of his days

That woman was his wife and could not be physically with him, for she was trapped in limbo, waiting to be sentenced to hell alongside her adored husband

Can't you speak today, darling?

He said, laughing weakly with a hint of bitterness