retro ii

And Ryan asked me how I'd want it all to end.
 

I sat, there, in silence for a long time.

Somewhere between minutes and eternity. The world became devoid of noise. A bird landed at the top of the fence, on one of the vertical posts.
 

“It doesn't,” I told him.
 

Ryan took this in and finally nodded, knowingly.
 

“There is no resolution in life, you know.” I spoke like I actually knew. “It only works in fiction because you get a limited frame. But in life, there is so much time. Too much time.”
 

“There is no time,” he told me.
 

“Theoretically.” I said, “All our stories have the same exact resolution: death. That’s the only constant.”
 

“That’s the universal element?” Ryan asked as he lit a smoke. “Pretty morose, man.”
 

I thought about this. “Yeah, there’s birth and there’s death, for everyone. Why think it would be different. Life is just the drive towards death.”
 

“It could be the drive until it,” he interjected.
 

“Sure,” I told him. “That’s a more naive and optimistic way of looking, but sure.”
 

I stopped and rolled down the window. The smoke escaped. I grabbed Ryan’s pack of cigarettes from the cup-holder.
 

“You mind?” I asked.
 

“Dig in,” he told me.
 

Lit the cigarette and continued. “Here, Reality: There can be no other resolution.”
 

“No direct-line between two linear points,” Ryan said. “Just a bunch of dots.”
 

Ryan sighed and let the smoke come out his nose.

“Spots.”

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