It's Not Even Worth Talking About

I don’t usually love sitting alone in dark places. Yet here I am.

By myself.

In the middle of the dark.

Let’s try not to think about it too much.

The quiet and dry pavement of this old worn road seems to stretch on for decades, instead of miles. The trees like black spikes barricading the rest of the sky off to this one sliver of a deep blue sky, in a limbo between the darkness of night and the liveliness of day.

Is it even worth it to talk about why I’m here? I don’t exactly have a reason.