P5: Collecting myself, I gazed at the cacti. "Defenseless, prone, vulnerable." I first thought. Negative reactions are common to any sort of change. But I caught myself. "The cacti" I thought, "are now approachable, friendly, and alicrituous. They wanted to be enjoy." I hugged each and everyone of those cacti and they hugged me back. Now I'm here - at the same bar and seat that where I started my cactus journey - ready for another adventure. The only difference is that you are next to me.
P4: A spine tinked against a rock. Then two spines made a soft "puht" hitting the sand. And more tinks. And more "puhts." And more tinks. And the frequency of tinks and puhts increased. Oh stranger! It sounded like building of Dvorak's New World Symphony. And then began one of those long moments that only take a second like when the man who you are curling up with in your daydreams softly holds your hand for the first time. I had done it. Me. I'd never done anything in my life. But I did…
P3: I looked out at the desert. I would have cried if my tear glands weren't dehydrated. It was all going to end. My flaurel diplomacy journey, failure or success, was over. "Cacti!" I yelled. "Put down your swords!" And then began one of those long silences that seem much longer than they really are like when you say "orgasm" instead of "organism" in biology class and the whole room goes silent.
P2: Listen stranger, I know that sounds cliche. We all commit our lives to something. Some of us have nobler goals than other. I get it. I don't have time to explain the whole back story, but I'll tell you this: every day for 6 years and 5 months I walked my grandmother to the cemetery to visit her friends and husband. Those walks were all I had. I gave them up for this.
Page 1: Dearest stranger, you've caught me towards the end of my story. If you knew the rest, you'd understand why I ran into the desert. You'd understand why I was being ripped apart with pain - a pain that cut across my internal body organs, a pain that felt the way nails scratching across a chalk board sounds. You'd understand why that exhaustive moment was the culmination of a task that was so god damn important to me I committed my life to it.