“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re not where you’re supposed to be?” I asked my friend. We were driving home from the county fair. I love the fair. Everyone walks around, funnel cakes in hand, gazing at the farm animals contentedly. There’s something satisfying in the simplicity of it all.
But the thing about simplicity is that it makes you think about things that are quite the contrary, quite muddled, quite complicated.
“What, you think we’re lost?” my friend said, looking left and right at the road signs.
“No,” I said. Then I looked around myself. “Wait, are we?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve done everything the GPS told me to. Says we should be home in about 8 minutes.”
“Oh, well that’s good. But it’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I meant like cosmically. Like in the grand scheme of life, do you ever feel like you aren’t in the right place? Lost sort of?”
“Why are you so sweaty, soldier? Look at that. That’s a puddle of sweat forming right underneath you!”
We all have a voice inside our heads. Most of the time it just sounds like our own voice. But for some reason, the voice in my head sounds like an old, grizzled drill sergeant.
“Come on, solider! Quit sitting around. Move!”
I’m in the gym. He tends to yell at me when I’m working out.
I look down, and there is actually a puddle of sweat beneath me. I’ve always sweat a lot when I exercise. Like, a lot. Far more than a normal human should. It’s really quite incredible. And gross.
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” I said. It was loud in the bar, so I had to raise my voice.
“I fully support that decision,” my friend says to me.
I could see her there through the crowd. She’d been looking at me all night and smiling. I hadn’t even said a word to her. It was like every time our eyes met I was telepathically telling her some silly joke.
I take a drink because, you know, liquid courage. And when I look back at her, she’s smiling again. I smile back.