Five Decembers

by James Kestrel

They were used to teaching each other. They knew how to be patient. They knew how to begin with first principles. How to lay a foundation and then build something lasting upon it.

Every time he stepped outside, he felt like his pockets were empty. He felt no closer to home. He’d stayed alive for all these days, and he didn’t have a thing to show for it.

He went back to the paved road. He wasn’t worried about what would come next. Maybe he’d lost the capacity to be worried. Things would work out. Or they wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. Everything that mattered was already past.

“It’s a shame.” “A lot of things are.”