Tap your skull threefold, and you awake fourteen different times in 7 different worlds. Your compass reads '236 degrees southwest.' Walking in any direction proves meaningless, as the compass's coordinates never change. You sit in the sand and decide to let it lead you. This method is immediately more successful. You suddenly understand how hard it must be for explorers to travel the world with little more than a map and a companion (for some reason the mind goes to Dora). Everyone you've ever seen is lined along the compass's path. Most have no faces yet you recognize their auras. It's funny-- you never really believed in auras before. The end of the line is in sight. At the end is each version of you. Every you that you've seen in a mirror; every you that's been photographed (more of those than anticipated), and every different you that's been the hero of your fantasies. They saved a place for you at the very end. You suddenly don't recall if that girl said thank you that one time. You realized it didn't matter anymore. For some reason you wonder if there's a book in a library that no one has ever read before. You tap your skull again and the world fades away.
Maybe being lost is for the best.
YOU ARE READING
Man, Machine, Mortality
RandomVery short stories exploring Love and Life and being Lost. About Nothing and everything simultaneously.
