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Description
              Neon lights burn an angry radiance into the night.  Rain drizzles down in sheets, drenching the ancient road sign as it drains in buckets at its ends.  Three small cars parked in front of the motel sit quietly in waiting for their owners to return from their empty rooms and lonely sleep.  None of them heard him approach, the rustles of his coat masked by the harsh clamor of the rain.  Not that it would have mattered much to them anyway, a stranger on the road was all too common and of little consequence to the travel-worn vagrants.
              Standing under the buzzing lights in the shelter of the porch the man lights a cigarette, its wispy nature seeming an ethereal presence in the rain.  Reaching into the deep recesses of his coat, he pulls out a flask and takes a swig, then sighs deeply, a sigh carrying the weight of an empty world.  Raising the flask, he holds it out as a gesture of friendship to the phantom presence in front of him, then, laughing silently to himself, puts the flask away.
              "Cold," he mutters, as water spills from the wide brim of his hat onto his outstretched hand, "so very cold."
              Moving slowly down the porch he sits on an old wooden bench, worn with ages of use.  Nearby, she watches as he fades into the shadows of the porch.  The creak of the floorboards as she crosses the room is not the only sign of the motel's dilapidation, evident clearly even in the gloom of a rainy night.  Opening the door into the night, she walks along the porch towards where the man disappeared.  Nearing the bench, she sees his hunched form bent low over his cigarette, as if trying to absorb its warmth into his very being.  As she approaches, the man looks up, a questioning glare in his eyes that speaks great pain and loneliness.
              "What is it that you want?"  The man asks harshly.
              She replies, "Nothing.  No, everything.  Just something that I saw in your eyes."
              "Well, which is it?  Everything or nothing?  I can't give you either, but things go along easier when you're sure what it is that you want."
              "I don't know what I want, but I am sure that whatever it is, I want it."
              "Well, that's good.  As long as you're sure.  Too many people in this world are uncertain. Be confident!  Each step is yours to take so take it and don't even think about giving it back.  Everything else comes along the way anyway, so why hesitate?"
              Stunned by his response, the girl stares at him for a few moments before asking, "Who are you?  You seem so familiar."
              "Do I really?  Well, who I am doesn't really matter; I'll be gone by the morning.  I'm about as real to you as the smoke curling around this cigarette.  Shadows don't need names."
              "But…I feel like I need to know you, this world isn't so empty as you seem to think."
              Laughing bitterly, the man puts out his cigarette as he stands up and faces her.
              "And just why do you think that?  The only thing in this life that is certain is our footsteps.  How is it that you can believe there is anything else?  Be certain and walk on!  You don't need me to hold you hand."
              "No, I don't.  But I am certain that there is more to this world than you think.  Why?  I don't know, really.  But if you come with me, I'll prove it to you."
              Grinning as he turns away from her, he raises his hand to his hat and takes it off.  Shaking the rain off it, he replaces it, then reaches inside his coat once again and produces the flask.
              Offering it to her, he says, "well, I honestly don't care whether or not there is anything else out there for me, but I can hardly refuse your offer either.  I follow where my feet lead, and right now they are telling me that I should follow you.  If you prove me wrong, then so much the better, but either way, the road is far more important than the rest stop.  Lead on!  I shall follow with certainty.  I warn you though, don't let your feet falter, because certain feet can't follow an uncertain leader, and so I'll leave you."
              Already heading towards her room to retrieve her few belongings, the girl turns around and smiles.
              "That's fine, but the same goes for you.  Even if you're proven wrong, don't lose that certainty.  A certain leader can't wait for an indecisive follower."
              Winking, she disappears into the darkness of her room, returning moments later with a coat and a small backpack.
              "Ready?"  She asks.
              "Of course.  Feet are born ready to walk.  They have to wait impatiently for their owners to catch up to them."
              With that, the two shadows walk into the rainy darkness, and disappear into the night.

Description
              Neon lights burn an angry radiance into the night.  Rain drizzles down in sheets, drenching the ancient road sign as it drains in buckets at its ends.  Three small cars parked in front of the motel sit quietly in waiting for their owners to return from their empty rooms and lonely sleep.  None of them heard him approach, the rustles of his coat masked by the harsh clamor of the rain.  Not that it would have mattered much to them anyway, a stranger on the road was all too common and of little consequence to the travel-worn vagrants.
              Standing under the buzzing lights in the shelter of the porch the man lights a cigarette, its wispy nature seeming an ethereal presence in the rain.  Reaching into the deep recesses of his coat, he pulls out a flask and takes a swig, then sighs deeply, a sigh carrying the weight of an empty world.  Raising the flask, he holds it out as a gesture of friendship to the phantom presence in front of him, then, laughing silently to himself, puts the flask away.
              "Cold," he mutters, as water spills from the wide brim of his hat onto his outstretched hand, "so very cold."
              Moving slowly down the porch he sits on an old wooden bench, worn with ages of use.  Nearby, she watches as he fades into the shadows of the porch.  The creak of the floorboards as she crosses the room is not the only sign of the motel's dilapidation, evident clearly even in the gloom of a rainy night.  Opening the door into the night, she walks along the porch towards where the man disappeared.  Nearing the bench, she sees his hunched form bent low over his cigarette, as if trying to absorb its warmth into his very being.  As she approaches, the man looks up, a questioning glare in his eyes that speaks great pain and loneliness.
              "What is it that you want?"  The man asks harshly.
              She replies, "Nothing.  No, everything.  Just something that I saw in your eyes."
              "Well, which is it?  Everything or nothing?  I can't give you either, but things go along easier when you're sure what it is that you want."
              "I don't know what I want, but I am sure that whatever it is, I want it."
              "Well, that's good.  As long as you're sure.  Too many people in this world are uncertain. Be confident!  Each step is yours to take so take it and don't even think about giving it back.  Everything else comes along the way anyway, so why hesitate?"
              Stunned by his response, the girl stares at him for a few moments before asking, "Who are you?  You seem so familiar."
              "Do I really?  Well, who I am doesn't really matter; I'll be gone by the morning.  I'm about as real to you as the smoke curling around this cigarette.  Shadows don't need names."
              "But…I feel like I need to know you, this world isn't so empty as you seem to think."
              Laughing bitterly, the man puts out his cigarette as he stands up and faces her.
              "And just why do you think that?  The only thing in this life that is certain is our footsteps.  How is it that you can believe there is anything else?  Be certain and walk on!  You don't need me to hold you hand."
              "No, I don't.  But I am certain that there is more to this world than you think.  Why?  I don't know, really.  But if you come with me, I'll prove it to you."
              Grinning as he turns away from her, he raises his hand to his hat and takes it off.  Shaking the rain off it, he replaces it, then reaches inside his coat once again and produces the flask.
              Offering it to her, he says, "well, I honestly don't care whether or not there is anything else out there for me, but I can hardly refuse your offer either.  I follow where my feet lead, and right now they are telling me that I should follow you.  If you prove me wrong, then so much the better, but either way, the road is far more important than the rest stop.  Lead on!  I shall follow with certainty.  I warn you though, don't let your feet falter, because certain feet can't follow an uncertain leader, and so I'll leave you."
              Already heading towards her room to retrieve her few belongings, the girl turns around and smiles.
              "That's fine, but the same goes for you.  Even if you're proven wrong, don't lose that certainty.  A certain leader can't wait for an indecisive follower."
              Winking, she disappears into the darkness of her room, returning moments later with a coat and a small backpack.
              "Ready?"  She asks.
              "Of course.  Feet are born ready to walk.  They have to wait impatiently for their owners to catch up to them."
              With that, the two shadows walk into the rainy darkness, and disappear into the night.