Sorrow is made out of blacks and grays and purples that have long faded to white. Jeans and old sweatshirts swallow them whole, and long, dark hair covers once-sparkling eyes. They always wear the same shirt, or maybe they don’t; no one can tell, no one really notices them. They hide in plain view; they are a shadow in a dark room. They don’t stand out in any way. But when they leave a room, people can feel it.

Sorrow lives alone with their memories. Maybe today they think about Joy, whom they love the way moths love the light - only Sorrow is too frightened to come near, for fear of being lit ablaze. Or maybe they think about the time when they were friends with Pride, a short-lived friendship that ended when they realized that she talked about herself more than anything. While they don’t say much, Sorrow is always listening.

Sorrow has a secret place for themselves in the closet in their bedroom. It’s where they go to stare at the wall when the world has become too much or to waste time when they don’t want to put away their socks. For some reason, they have an overwhelming number of socks. The closet has a single pillow and an outlet so they can listen to music and drown out the world. As far as Sorrow is aware, all they really need to survive is a pillow and their headphones.

Sorrow feeds the stray cats that live outside their house. They think they can understand the cats, in a way; the cats are drifters who aren’t anchored to any one place, and Sorrow understands that feeling. Some days, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they didn't have the cats. Sorrow suspects they need the cats as much as the cats need them. On Sundays, they sometimes go for walks (it’s the only time they enjoy being outside), and the cats follow them around the city.