By the time the hole was dug, Steven knew he would carry on, even when the point was not merely to keep to keep himself warm. Digging had given his life purpose. It was a small, feeble purpose and was unlikely to end in anything more than a gradual tapering off into nothingness. But purpose was something, wasn’t it? A small, mean voice somewhere nagged that it meant nothing. It all meant nothing. But here was another, stronger voice in Steven. It had no answers, only another question, but it was this question that kept him digging until well after an unseen sun set in the invisible sky. If it all meant nothing, why did it matter so much?
Sist sett
