Not Existing

He was running down the street with the greatest concentration on it. Clenching every muscle of his body; sweat dripping from his forehead; light distorted by the very heat radiating from his body. He bumped someone—that was a close call. “Hail a cab maybe?” he thought. “No, it must be closer than I think.” Bursting through the door pushing away the Maitre D’ while yelling “where is it? where is it?” “Ahh finally.” HE finally sits down on his mantle, but instead of a relief his thoughts drift away altogether. The thought of completing the journey is more relief than the actual destination could be.