I found myself walking down a dirt road, one so overgrown with weeds that you could hardly tell it was ever a road at all. Only the deep ruts running into the distance betrayed its existence as anything but just another field.

Ahead of me, the road stretched to a horizon hidden in fog. I turned my head to look behind me and saw the same visage. I was on a road between two nowheres.

How did I end up here?

Where did I come from?

Where was I going?

I kept walking. There was nothing else to do.

Eventually, I came upon a fence that slanted in from the right and then turned to parallel the road. Just a picket fence, once gleaming white perhaps but now the faded gray of neglect, the fence accompanied me on my journey. The fence became my companion as I walked the road. Its gaps and its raggedness and its general state of disrepair, these all gave it character, gave it a personality that resonated within me somehow.

I knew that the fence meant something. The fence was important.

I continued to walk, and I continued to wonder.

(to be, um, continued)