The Travelers Who Were Already There

“Do you think they know we’re here?”

“Who?”

“The others.”

“That depends what you mean by know.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“You asked a question with a large doorway in it.”

“Fair.”

They walked for a while.

“Do you think they are looking at us?”

“Probably not in the way you’re imagining.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you say probably?”

The other traveler smiled.

“Because uncertainty doesn’t require silence.”

They continued.

Somewhere beyond the ridge, another path crossed theirs.

Neither traveler could see anyone on it.

But for a moment, both stopped.

“Did you feel that?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Because if you had, we’d have to decide what it meant.”

They laughed.

Then one of them looked toward the unseen path.

“Maybe we don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Decide yet.”

The other traveler considered this.

“I think I like that.”

They walked on.

The other path remained where it was.

So did theirs.

Neither needed to become the other for the crossing to matter.