The Question

I grab my small notebook and a pencil. I give myself one more reassuring look in the mirror before making my way out the door. My determination to fulfill my mission keeps my feet moving. When I would get home, my mission would be complete; my question would be answered.

I bravely make my way deeper into the city. Passing a skate park, I see a group of people in their late teens. My feet urge me to keep moving, but I shake off the awkwardness and walk into the park. The strong smell of marijuana bombards my nose as I walk up to the teenagers. I lock eyes with a young man. His shaggy, blond hair covers his hazel eyes. A scantily dressed woman hangs off his arm. The man gives me an odd look, but smiles nonetheless.

"What's up? Are you lost?" he asks sweetly. His voice is not mocking, but rather he uses the tone that adults use when talking to small children. I hide my annoyance with a smile, knowing I was probably only a few years younger than him.

"Uh...no...I just wanted to ask a question. I'm trying to ask as many people as possible," I explain, preparing to write his answer down. The young man exchanges looks with his girlfriend, clearly amused.

"Okay, ask away," he chuckles.

"In your opinion, what is the meaning of life?" I question. I can tell by his expression that I caught him off guard, but he quickly adjusts.

"You want to know the meaning of life, huh? Well, that's simple: to have fun," he replies. To have fun is the meaning of life? Is it really that simple? I quickly write down his answer.

"Thank you," I say.

"No problem," the man answers, giving me a wink.

I move on to find the next person. Houses are turning into sky scrapers, more and more people are filling up the streets. The casually dressed people from the park are gradually replaced with intimidating men and women sporting suits. They move fast like there is never enough time. I call out to a few people, but my voice is lost in the noise of the city. From the sea of black and white, I see a well-dressed man. Just like the others, he wears an expensive suit. His brown hair is slicked back by greasy hair gel, and his dark eyes are locked onto some unseen future. I run towards him, fearing I might lose him.

"Wait, sir!" I cry out. The man finally turns around, glaring at me impatiently.

"What?" the man snaps.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask.

"Make it quick," he answers, looking at his watch.

"Um...what do you think the meaning of life is?" I question, my notebook open and my pencil ready to write. He gives me a look as if to say: "I don't have time for this." The man sighs deeply, and then says:

"Our purpose is to be successful. It's that simple. Now, if you'll excuse me, you're hindering my purpose," he growls. The businessman walks away before I can apologize. I write down "to be successful," feeling a little accomplished for having acquired another answer.

I quickly leave the busy part of the city, not wanting to bother another business man or woman. Eventually, I find myself in another park, but this time, it is full of dogs instead of skateboarders. Looking around, I see a man sitting on a bench, his right hand holding several dog leashes while his left hand casually texts on his phone. His shaggy, brown hair peeks out from under his purple beanie. The man's plaid shirt clashes perfectly with his ripped skinny jeans. Feeling less intimidated, I walk up to him.

"Excuse me, sir, can I ask you a question?" I ask, tapping lightly on his shoulder. He looks up from his phone screen to give me a look that says, "Why are you talking to me?"