A Walk

It's so hot. That sun. . . That oppressive sun. . . That strangling sun. . . This damn idea.

I should've stayed home. My foot- what's my foot caught on? Oh- rope.

Rope. . . Where'd this rope come from? I can't even see; the sun- it's so hot.

I should've brought my sunglasses; why didn't I? Oh, that's right. I got distracted; I was gonna pack a book, but couldn't find it, so I spent time looking for the book when I could've packed the sunglasses.

Dumb.

What's that song stuck in my head? It's angry- probably Johnny Cash.

You can run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Run on for a long time

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Sooner or later God'll cut you down

. . .

I need water.

Where's water?

. . . Where's the path? I think I lost it a while ago. . . Maybe 16 minutes ago? Oh well. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. This desert is empty, the sun is scorching, and my foot is still entangled in this rope.

Rope. . . Where is it? Is there rope? Was there ever any rope?

Am I- what's it called- hallucinating?

No. . . Not yet. This can't happen- not yet! It's not time yet. There's more to be done; I have to finish first- then I can die.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay, there's rope, I just can't see it. . . That's what I'll tell them.

Them. . . Who are they?

Ben? Thomas? Robin?

Maybe. . .

They'll love this story when I get back. I can picture it now:

"So, how was your Great Adventure?" they'd ask.

"It was awesome!" I'd say.

"Did you ever encounter any mysterious ropes that were invisible to the human eye?" they'd ask.

"As a matter of fact, I did!" I'd say.

"Awesome! That's superb." they'd reply.

And then we'd stop talking.

. . .

Why am I doing this? What am I searching for? Where am I going?

"Where is everyone?"

This is ridiculous. No one can hear me. I shouldn't say anything. Ever.

. . .

What if I forget how to talk? What if I forget how to speak English?

No. No, that can't happen, no. Don't freak yourself out. Just keep walking.

Where are you walking? Home? Yeah, home.

Home.

Why are you going back home? You hate home. You even hate Ben, Thomas, and Robin. Don't aim towards home; aim towards civilization.

Yeah, civilization.

Big buildings, and men in gray suits, and women in high heels, and children in public schools, and music- oh, music! Sweet, everlasting, breathing music! Aim toward music, because we all know you hate society.

. . .

We? . . . Who is we?

You're alone- remember that.

• • •

God, it's hot. I still can't see anything- nothing.

Wait- what's that thing? It's standing; can it see me? It's black- maybe a horse? Can it hear me? Maybe if I yell. . .

"Hey! Hey, over here!"

Nothing. It didn't even turn. Maybe if I get closer? That rope is still wrapped around my ankle- hard to walk with this damn rope around my ankle. Gosh, it's really tight- maybe if I loosen it? . . . But I can't see! Gosh, this sun is blinding. And it's so hot.

Is it still there?

Yes, it is. Okay. I'll yell louder.

"HEY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Nothing.

Again?

"HEY! HELLO? WHAT ARE YOU? ARE YOU DEAF?"

Nothing.

Never mind.

This heat is getting worse- starting to look like fidgeting pool water in the sun.

What's that song stuck in my head? I like it.

And you want to travel with her,

And you want to travel blind,

And you know that she will trust you,

For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.

I need to sleep" why can't I sleep?

Oh! The rope. That's why I can't sleep.

Now I remember.

Now I can sleep.

Now I can rest.