The wanderer’s talk with the traveller echoed in his dreams. Floating in the silent waters, their paths had crossed in that brief moment.

It’s funny how they come and go.

In this life, nobody leaves. They just float away.

Nobody likes listening to clichés like ‘Live in the moment’ or ‘Nothing lasts forever’, but they’re true. They only stay for a little while, then they drift away…or I drift away.

Some have learned to swim, and they seek out other companions, so that they are known and remembered wherever they go.

Some hold on to each other and form chains, choosing to drift together.

I do nothing, I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know where everyone else is. Just you and me here.

Eventually, they would become smaller and smaller, until they disappear over the horizon. Am I drifting away from them? Or are they drifting away from me?

What does it matter, really? It’s the same ending either way.

It’s getting late. Forgive my rambling. Should the currents decide that your path and mine are different, may you always be guided. Thank you for listening. This is good night, traveller, and possibly our farewell.

“Perhaps I should call myself a drifter instead… Nah.”

The wanderer’s whisper carried across the morning breeze over the deep blue. The waters were calm.

There was nothing there, save himself.