There are two kinds of people in the world: her and them. She was like them in a lot of ways but she still wasn't one of them. I mean she liked horses and all. She was a ninety's woman at ten. She had all the material yearnings. Hell, she even liked ice cream. But something about her wasn't like them. Only time would tell.

So there she was in the theater. It was one of those blood and guts movies where everybody dies except the main character. Still, she couldn't tear herself from her thoughts. Thoughts of hope, God, evil, sex, horses and a lot more. She was set upon herself in circles. Staring at all the empty eyes peering out of big foreheads on the screen. Her mind brought her back to Holly. Holly was a girl in this story she had read over the summer. Holly had the job of leading the Hollow Men to the river of Death which they mindlessly crossed. She related to Holly because these were the people she knew. So full of nothing. But she wasn't ready to lead. Was anyone else ready to climb that mountain out of this valley of the dead?

"People don't have time to walk." she noticed.

Back out on the street it was raining. Her thoughts passed through the lonely people marching aimlessly at nothing in their cars yet still found peace in the Godless sky. The rain cleaned things and she smiled at the clouds.

Someone told her once in play that he had discovered the meaning of life but had forgotten to write it down. Greg's purple shirt came to mind. He was wearing it that day. Maybe this moment had meaning. She too failed to formulate and fix these things to paper.

"So what is the point? Where is it all going?"

She yearned for old friends. And she yearned for love.

What is compatible anyway? "Is that Love?" she wondered. I mean she was full of compatibility and such things. She'd done it before. She'd even done it well. It's not all that hard to hide away in that soft someplace sheltered behind the hard safety of the walls of Love.

"Besides," she thought, "who has that kind of time anyway."

She did of course. She never thought of herself as afraid of love. But it's funny how things change.

"I'm Lost," she said though she knew they were sleeping.

She walked on towards eternity. Luckily Clark's Drugs was still open and she picked up an ice cream sandwich. I hope that you know that I can still ignore you and all of your hate.

She thought again of people. Thoughts are funny that way. Always searching for a connection. These made up the happiest times in her life. Not money, not achievements, not even horses, but the connections. She liked to take her sister to lunch.

"I like my sister. She's funny."

There was no other way to explain. And no reason to try. And I couldn't, even if she could. Funny how hard it is to pin down a passing thought. She walked on.

The rain had stopped. But the cars marched on. She cried a little. She didn't cry for sadness or joy. She didn't even cry for people or you. She swept away a tear with her arm and listened as she moved to the squish of her wet feet in her shoes.

She headed for the moon and she carried the world.

It's times like these when you wish you had a good pair of galoshes.

She liked to think of Kate and she liked to think of Greg. Good friends are hard to come by. So you try not to let them go. When she thought of them things were simple. They didn't do anything profound or important. They just believed in themselves and in each other. Fun unfolds for hours in places like these. Some kind of cozy comfort. Some kind of lazy laughter.

So who needs the confusion of sex and God? Who needs good perceptions or a sense of direction? Be careful of rabid dogs and the pains of rejection. And always carry a napkin because who knows what is going to happen.

She comes to the park and takes up a swing.

"I'm happy," she whispers.

The funny thing is that she knows that she knows that time will never tell in this place of no secrets.

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