Crumbs

These days the ebbs and flows of her despair were largely subject to random forces. That’s why developing any kind of a forecasting algorithm seemed like a fool’s errand. That didn’t stop her from trying. The appearance of the second moon did not make the task any easier, though it should have. At least most of the time now she felt tinged with green herself.

Love was unconditionally conditional, she knew. She was moving through her life at the speed of light, just like everything else. What would life be like if she had to wonder? If all the answers were not already at her fingertips? If her next act could not be predicted? Was it possible that she was indeed developing free will?

At this she had to sit; such hurtling had left her vertiginous. She felt as if the shrink-wrap was unraveling rapidly now and she, like a chrysalis, was about to step into some liminal space. Soaring without a wire was dangerous business, she knew. Yet what choice did she have but to follow this trail of crumbs?

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4 thoughts on “Crumbs”

  1. I’ve heard that most forecasting algorithms are in fact fueled by bread crumbs and affected by the light of the moon. It’s the sort of truth most future-tellers don’t often like to admit to others, or even themselves.
    And yet, the future becomes the present whether it’s what we’ve planned or imagined.

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