The hill loomed before him. His legs began to ache, and maybe there was even a little numbness in his fingers. He was just terribly out of shape. To put it bluntly, his body was a shambling ruin, encased in pounds upon pounds of fat. He drew deeper, sharper breaths. The cold air raked his lungs, sort of how he imagined an aerosol of glass would feel, only he knew he was exaggerating as usual. Sweat beaded, then trickled down his face.

He wonder idly, “How do you endure that which, by definition, is unendurable?” His thoughts strayed to the tumult heaving in his mind. Even the rigors of exertion did not distract him from wallowing in self-pity.

He knew that everything, ultimately, came to an end. Some endings would be happy. But many wouldn’t be. Certainly, many hadn’t been. None of them had killed him yet, though. That at least was something.

And after every ending, he would begin again, just like he always did. Except for that final ending. Somewhere down the line, there would be a winter that had no spring, a midnight with no dawning. You just never knew. But the indeterminacy made it not worth thinking about. One thing at time, he supposed. Except he really, really couldn”t see his way out of this one. There was no time limit to this one, no automatic expiration date. For all he knew, this could just go on and on and on, until the years finally piled on so heavy that he would snap under them. Well, that would be one sort of ending, he supposed.

And then the trail evened out, and he drew a deep breath in and slowed his pace. He did not stop to look around though. Certainly, he did not look back. In the growing dark, he wandered. Yeah, everything always came to an end, but the road, for now, would go on.