Retreat is a natural tendency. People need space, sometimes. Vacation, meditation and long afternoons alone in bed are all commonplace activities. Less so is the compulsion to seal oneself in a small cave.
Yet, that is precisely what our hero had set out to do.
And with the last stone in place, our hero now finds himself - at last - completely isolated.
Cut off from the light of day. From words and worries; the world itself.
He and himself alone, completely, as intended.
...
Now what? He thinks to himself, having finally achieved solitude.
Why did I want this? He asks to no one.
No answer comes.
No endgame was ever truly envisioned, he just knew it was what he had wanted.
Want spurred on by drive.
Some kind of calling - yes, he was called here. To this place.
To this pocket from the world. His own crack in space and time.
Here, where there was no supervision. No witness.
Anything could be said here.
That was it! He needed privacy in order to ...
...
Shit.
He really had no purpose for being here.
Nothing would come of this.
This wasn't a separation from the world, it was a perfect representation of it.
Fumbling through the dark of a cramped cavern, trying not to use up all the oxygen.
Alone.
"Now what?" he says, this time aloud.
"Now," the stranger replies, "we can talk."
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