–as she has, often, in the past–quit. In the midst of the
wood. Not the trackless wood. She hadn’t been in the
trackless wood for, oh, years. This was the Wood of The
Gazillion Paths. Knowing–or so she thought–all paths
lead back to the self, she picked one at random. It was
skinny–a leaf, two leaves wide at its broadest–but it
called to her. And in the end, it led her nowhere.