My sense of Purpose meets my Nihilism in the hot, dry heat of Bishop, California. Purpose, his typical oblivious self, secure within his bubble, lost in his own world, and up today, down tomorrow, world-less Nihilism is feeling rather choleric.

“Hello Purpose.”

“Oh, hello Nihilism. Jeez, sorry, I almost ran right into you…haven’t seen you in a good long while, what are ya up to these days?”

“Nothing, much” he drawls, a knows-it-all smirk turns up one side of his mouth. “And yourself?”

“Just a little reading.” Purpose says turning the dark cover toward Nihilism so the title can be read.

“Urrahh!” Nihilism slaps the book from Purpose’s hands,  eyes narrowed and grimacing in disgust.  Fluttering through the fall, thickly bound sheets of thin, thin paper hit hot cement with a smack. An old photo of a young child used as a bookmark, jarred loose from between pages lands softly between the two of them. Captured diapered and carefree, those early first steps were awkward but balanced with with the help of a pink, plastic bat. 

“Now really!” Purpose snapped. “How you’ve changed, you can be such a heartless ass sometimes!” 

“Oh, get over yourself.” Smirking once more.

“Look here.” Purpose reaching for the photo. “We had such potential until you came along. We could have been anything!”

“Just accept it.” said Nihilism. “You know it to be true…I set us free. Now we’re—everything.”

With that, Purpose vanished, gone forever, and Nihilism was left alone on the sidewalk—with a book, a photo, and everything.