“Walk too far, and your feet will fall off,” says Whoever, the bald-headed man.
I pretty much tell Whoever to shove it, and I keep walking. What the fuck does Whoever know? My feet feel fine, even if my ankles are a bit sore. I’ve been walking for over a year straight now, and I’ve got no signs of stopping. I’m going to walk under the sea, I’m going to walk over Siberia.
“How long until I reach Hawaii from here?” I ask Whoever, standing on the edge of California, walking in place.
“Does it matter?” He says.
“Well of course it matters! I’d like to know.”
“Your feet will fall off before you reach Hawaii,” Whoever says. And I turn back around to look at him, you know, give him a real nonchalant look, maybe curl my lip up at him or something, but he’s already gone.
I throw a stone into the sea, I throw it as far as I can, and I hear it splash in the distance as I dip my foot in the water. It’s cold.
I jump into the sea, and soon, the smell of grass and air starts to fade. I pass by the stone I threw, and I keep on walking. Whoever, right or wrong, I’m walking, and I’m walking all the way to Hawaii.