You take another step.
This might be step number 3456 but it could also be 3457.
You've walked a fair way in a straight line.
There is peace in knowing that its a straight line.
A straight line through a forest is no easy feat.
There is something following behind you.
But it's 254 steps behind.
You take another step.
You've lost count of the trees.
But that's to be expected in a forest.
The leaves are changing colour after all.
So the trees could be changing numbers.
It's peaceful.
The crunch of leaves underneath feels nice between your toes.
The freshness of the air feels nice against your lips.
It's 213 steps behind.
You take another step
Your hair is wet still.
It dampens your dress.
The chill of the air catches the damp.
The sensation is refreshing.
At least it is not numb.
Everything is better than numb.
It's 167 steps behind.
You take another step.
At this time of year, nature is indecisive.
The sky and wind seem to threaten childish outbursts.
But they never fully commit to it.
The occasional spattering of rain does little to deter your path.
And the wind just fills your lungs with cold.
It's not numbness.
And that brings peace.
It's 104 steps behind.
You take another step.
It's running after you.
But you knew it would be hard to outrun.
Especially in a straight line.
But the line is the only thing that makes sense.
And your steps are the only thing you can control.
You know when it arrives there are two options.
Its 58 steps behind.
You take another step.
And it will either bring the numbness that you are walking away from.
Or it'll bring the pain.
The torment.
The overwhelming ferocity of it all.
Either way, you don't want it.
Its 27 steps behind.
You take another step.
But you're too tired to start running.
Why can't it leave you with the trees?
With peace?
Why can't you have peace?
You take another step.
Its 12 steps behind.
But peace is only temporary.
Does peace exist without it?
And as it greets you.
As it snakes it's hands around your neck.
You wonder.
Where were you walking to anyway?
