The road stretched ahead – quiet, endless, uncertain.
The man did not know how much farther he had to go. No signposts. No markers. Just a vague sense that he was heading the right way. He hoped he was.
His feet ached. His backpack felt heavier by the minute. The thought of stopping tempted him, but not yet. Just a bit more. One more bend. One more stretch. Then he’d rest.
The sky changed from red to blue to grey to gold, clouds moving like thoughts. The wind carried the scent of pine and dust.
And Ben was there. The man raised Ben up since he was a newborn puppy. Always a few paces behind or ahead – never far. He chased rabbits through the brush and barked at squirrels in the trees. But he always circled back, tail wagging, tongue out, like he was checking in. Like he knew the man could not do this alone.
The road was long, but it was getting shorter. Every step forward was a step closer – though the man did not know what exactly to expect. He only knew he had to keep going.
Not because he was not tired. But because a voice told him, keep walking.
And as long as Ben was beside him, he was ok.
Tired, unsure, but still walking. What would he see on the next day?
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