playing the game

   "Hey! Let's play a game?" I say, my mind racing with excitement. I leap to my feet and dash across the cracked barren earth and hide bashfully behind the stone pillar holding up the bridge. I slowly press my cheek against its cold smooth surface and look at him curiously, the way I always do. He is gazing off in the direction of the ditch, his eyes glazed with a thin layer of insecurity, his face is cringed in a delicately sad manner that gets me thinking. I peek out from behind the pillar and say softly, a tone of mystery and thoughtfulness in my voice,
   "If we knew where we were going, then we wouldn't go anywhere." My statement doesn't seem to have penetrate his concentration. I return to my position gaurded from his sight. Then his steady voice breaks the silence,
   "When we don't know where we're going, we still don't go anywhere." I sigh in agreement.
   "Aren't you losing the game?" I ask.
   "There's not a game to lose. The game is determined only by what you want to win." His statement makes me smile mishcheiviously. I hop to my feet quietly and walk over to where he sits- unchanged and strong. I take my place at his side and gaze into his silent blue eyes, diligently attempting to decode the mysteries within them. I feel the anger, the personal dissatisfaction creeping into the beauty of his morbid emotions. He takes a piece of craked earth into his soft hands and pitches it violently. It crumbles to dust as it hits the ground, creating a soft explosion of sound that ripples through my head like thunder. I ask him what's the matter. He picks up another piece, this one is slighly larger.
   "Life-" he says plainly, the faintest hint of dissapointment quivers in the syllable. I nod. Another stone goes spiraling in the air. "School, family, everything". A new stone accompanies each word, taking its place in the air with the stones before it. A moment of silence passes between us. It is what always happens when we reach a point in our game where neither of us knows the answer. So I ask another question,
   "If we destroy everything we have, there will be nothing left to lose." This one is much more effective. I can tell because he has stopped throwing the stones and is now looking at me, his eyes full of sad anger. He lowers his gaze to the ground. I begin to prod the broken, dry mound of dirt with a twig- carefully carving between the cracks until it falls, a million pieces into the shallow ditch. I continue this process until I have almost entirely filled the ditch with little grains of dirt.
   "Imagine, each tiny piece of dirt represents one human life." I watch him carefully, curiously. He takes another stick and mimmicks my task.
   "World war one." He jabs the side of the ditch adding to the pile of crumbs I had previously made.
   "World war two." He repeats the same motion, again and again.
   "The holocaust." He places the stick down beside him and twists his hand into a fist. He punches the earth and enormous chuncks of dirt spiral down, down. Lost dreams, lost lives, lost reasons for hope. Our minds precisely synchronized to eachothers. We both know what the answer is this time.
   "Well, how can we save them?" I ask genuinely as I look him square in the eyes.
   "We can't." He replies, equally geniuine. The timid, terrifyingly sad look on his face expresses a thousand generations of hate and violence, a thousand voices lost within the abyss of time. I sigh, discouraged and slightly unsatisfied. He notices the pain in my reaction and continues, his fist still fixed above the mound of dirt.
   "However, you can save a million lives, right now, if you kiss me." His tone is serious yet subtle. I smile. We both know the offer is too great for me to refuse, after all he knows how to use my weaknesses against me. I give in, and lean towards him, slowly pressing my lips to his. He lowers his fist kindly and offers it to me. I grasp it tight, unwilling to ever let it go. We are the same, today, I think to myself. We are the same.