It’s a square. Four walls, he said. Containing us. Keeping us from getting out. No doors. Nor windows. Just walls.

I do like the color. It’s cheery. Very nice indeed. A beautiful room, he said. Better than being out there, I’ll tell you that.

Do you miss it?

Miss what?

Freedom. The ability to go anywhere.

Those days have passed me by. Used to be, I could travel anywhere I wanted. Now, I don’t have any gumption. I’m happy how it all turned out, he told him.

Not me. I still have the wandering ways. Out West. Sleep in the desert. Walk into a bar and order a shot. A cold beer. A woman’s touch. You don’t miss that?

I’m glad it’s all over. Eternity with you. Not a bad deal. We can talk about old times. Remember when we headed south to Arkansas.  Up in the Ozarks. What beauty. And it got cool at night. Winds came through the trees. Made you feel alive, he reminisced.

Never again. We’ll never see that again. Never feel that. Or smell it. It’s over. This is how it ends.

You think the box will fill up?

Hard to say. I don’t know what’s in store for us. This could be just a holding place. A room to wait in till he makes up his mind.

Which list do you think we’re on?

I don’t know. Nobody knows. Out there, I kept a Bible on me.

Yes. Yes, you did.

I never read it. Too complex. Didn’t understand the writing.  I just carried it with me. Like a rabbit’s foot. For luck.

Did it serve you well?

It was given to me by my grandmother. It had pictures in it. And maps. I looked at the pictures of Jesus performing miracles. Hanging on the cross. I don’t know what happened for him to get crucified.  Don’t know the whole story. Pictures only tell you so much.