"I couldn't find you if I tried." Muttered teary-eyed young girl.

  "At this point, I'm afraid you couldn't find me if I wanted you to." Chris expelled as he walked away from the scene of his broken down car. "I'll be back when I find some gas." He told her, though he knew he would never return.

  Every man has to find himself before he can find another. Chris, however, was not attempting to discover his persona, nor was he attempting to find a friend with which to pass the time. Time...for some it travels at the heals, for others it is the most abundant resource in the world, but for all it is an element of consciousness; without time a person is lost.

  Chris walked along the gravel road, his head pointed down, kicking the occasional soda can next to the ever present chain of cigarette butts. "My life has come down to this," he yelled at a maple among a forest of oaks, "I've nothing here, but there's nothing to look forward to after I leave. So I'm told to find God...to find a saviour? HA! I spit on the aid of your pretentious divinity! What is a man if he cannot help himself? Find your false sense of safety in your embellished tales of historical fabrications if you wish, I'll be the one to laugh in the end!" Satisfied with his intellectual-self, he walked on further.

  The road seemed to go on for miles, he walked for three hours without seeing as much as a slight curve or any sign of human inhabitance. The grass seemed to chuckle at him as the wind kicked up the lose and dry soil into his eyes as he stared at his feet. "Nobody is willing to understand. The truth is here, the truth is now...but nobody wants to see it...nobody wants to know. There is no point to life, there is no reason for existence. You live and you die, and when you die there is no pearly white gate of heaven, there is only the worm eating through your casket. No amount of time wasted on a prayer can save you from dying..."

  Two more hours passed before the burden of the miles became present on Chris' feet. He had not a clue on where he was going, nor did he know what he was leaving behind. The sun was directly overhead, clearly lighting the path being traveled, though a sense of shade could be felt in every direction. "I can't prove life...I can't prove anything outside the voice in my head. So what's the use in trying to convey my thoughts to another? Human existence? Procreation of the species? If it does not exist then why should I play along with my potential insanity? A creation of my mind out of necessity? The world disappears as I turn my back! As I die, the world dies, too! What if it is all a lie...a lie forced upon me by another conscious entity...perhaps I am merely seduced within a mental ward, lying alone in a padded cell to live out the fantasy of my life in simple seclusion..."

  "RUBBISH!" A voice screamed out. "Such thoughts will lead you to insanity, not cure it!"

  "It is not the point, sir! The point is the uncertainty...how do I surpass the need for the

 thoughts of the masses if I cannot define myself!" "You are the masses, and they are you.

  Without another you are nothing, just as without you, the world itself is nothing. It is the conscious thought, the constant connection between every living thing, that binds us in this world."

  "You, sir, are simply a figment of my lost soul. Soul? I haven't a soul, and I haven't need for a voice. Ignorance is the key to my life, and happiness will follow."

  Chris continued on for what felt to him like days. He never stopped, nor did he ever desire sustenance. He just kept thinking and screaming at the world around him. It was not until a blister grew on his foot that he finally gave thought to his seclusion. "I am completely alone, submerged in my thoughts. Does a reality continue around me? Where do I go from here? For God's sake," He stopped for a moment before tossing a small stone across the road, "Help."

  "You know, Chris" The voice returned, "you were correct in your assumption of life. It has no meaning. It in itself can give you nothing in return for your years of mental anguish and toil."

  "I need not be told this! Tell me what I desire! Tell me of purpose! Tell me the meaning of life if you so desire!"

  "You, my lost soul...You are the meaning of life. You said it yourself, several times over, 'without you, this world does not exist.' You exist so others can exist, and others exist so you can exist. Life is not a question, and it is not a choice. You live as others have lived before you, and you shall continue on until the day when your body shall nourish the soil that will give birth to the greens that feed your great grandson. Your eternity shall be lived in the lives of those who surpass you. You are no more lost than I, and now it is time that you take a new path."

  Seemingly possessed, Chris rose to his feet, and began to run down the road. He saw in the distance the outline of an old sport sedan. The figure became more distinct as came closer. He came within ten feet of the driver's site window before abruptly stopping and falling to his knees. "This surely cannot be!" He cried out to the sky. He began to silently sob into his palms before finding the energy to climb up the side of the car.

  He peered blankly into open window. Inside was the sun-bleached skeleton of a young child, in its hands a half deteriorated coloring book. Chris gently reached one hand into the car, and seized the small book. He peered down at the five words that remained in tact on the page; the words that sealed his fate. "He said he'd be back."