The road didn't end. It just stopped counting. There was a sign that said zero, and I stood under it like a man who had finally reached the edge of the map, only to find that the edge was just a place where the road got quiet enough to hear itself. The city called its people to the night, and I sat among them with my hands in my pockets. I didn't know their names. I didn't need to. Their laughter was enough to remind me that the world was still full of strangers who were not enemies. Zero is not empty. Zero is a starting place. I didn't arrive to be saved. I arrived to be present. And maybe that is the only answer the road was ever going to give me. They sold sweets in the dark, and I ate one slowly, tasting something I couldn't name. The sweetness didn't solve anything. It just sat on my tongue like a small, patient reminder that the body still knows how to receive. I did not belong to that city. But I was not outside it, either. I was just another breathing shape standing in the same warm dark, and that was enough for one night. Zero is not empty. Zero is a starting place. I didn't arrive to be saved. I arrived to be present. And maybe that is the only answer the road was ever going to give me. Maybe that is the only answer I needed. The road didn't end. It just stopped counting, so I could finally start breathing.
