97. be right back.
the mission is complete. i repeat, the mission is complete.
and yet, the sticky notes remain up. posted on the wall, keeping the signals and records. you wouldn't believe me if i told you, so give me a round of applause for trying anyway, will you?
words float. tonight, i catch water into a new, slender water bottle and cap the mouthpiece. click. shooting moments like cold darts landing on a wall, their tips lined with naked poison. if you believe.
i do believe in magic. i believe in miracles. i believe in the invisible and the hope that sighs underneath our bellies. i believe in it, but then tell me why life is a maze. it's a stupid question, i know. i suppose the story of my life is asking stupid questions. but someone's gotta ask these questions, don't you think?
which is what brings me to my main point for the night. it's that life is too short to not do the things you love. it's too short to not be called by the name you wish to be called by. and it's too damn short to not be living this life. if you're reading this message, it's never too late. there's a star named hope that bursts into crumbles of sand each minute in the still night sky. catch dust, another word for the trail that has creeped up to see you.
i am nothing. nothing but the water of a bath tub waiting to be filled, hot, then lukewarm, then down the drain. fluid and gas. it's time to be ok with that.
it's also time to rest. an active rest, but a rest nonetheless. eyes still on the road, as the driver of this toyota camry 2003, as they say. who says that, you ask? well, only one way to find out: experience. join me.
the offer stands. light flickers through the mist of the green telephone pole where we met tonight. don't forget. we'll pick up where we left off. in the meantime, be right back.