XXII. Neuron.

It's been two days and the martian and I have barely exchanged a word.

We sit in amicable silence as I weather the storm of my ever-raging emotional whirlwind.

“I hope I'm not bothering you” I break the silence by mid-afternoon.

“With what?” He asks, his little eyes widening

“With my constant whining, and moping, and general air of dispassion”

“You haven’t said a word to me since I came. If anything, it's your silence that bothers me”

“Well, I haven’t felt like much fun to be around. I didn’t want to dump that on you”

“That’s awfully polite. But trust me, that moth-eaten cardigan is more offensive than anything you could ever say to me”

I burst out laughing at the little Martians uncharacteristic dig at my ratty clothes

“Ok, look at it this way” starts the little martian. "you're in a rut, yes, I know, life sucks. It seems stagnant yet never-ending, I know.

But imagine that you're a neuron, I mean technically, you kind of are right? Or made-up of them or something-look I don’t know, I never studied human biology. The point is, you're a neuron, and you're currently resting in a state of readiness.

You don’t know whether you're charged positively or negatively, all you know is that you're really, really fucking charged.

Now all you need is one, teeny-tiny signal. A little change that pushes the electricity forward, a little spark to set the dry leaves on fire.

The change may not be instant, but the promise of it will be. And then as you edge your way over the threshold of possibility, as you balance on the tightrope between now and what is about to happen, you're going to look up, even if it's just for a split second and you're going to see.”

He stops, to take a breath

“See what? See what?” I ask impatient and eager

“You're going to see, that every shithole has a hole, a way out.”