There were two friends between places. One had eyes clouded over by shadow, the other, eyes that lit their way.

"Do you ever think about dying?" The friend with dark eyes asked.

"Yes. I wonder about it," the other friend replied.

"I am not asking if you wonder about dying. Or if you wonder what happens when you die."

"What are you asking?"

"I mean, as a place to go. As a destination to travel to."

"Like planning a trip?"

"Like planning a trip."

"Not often."

"Not often?"

"I think about it like a task. Like I think about a chore. Like something I'm putting off."

"I always try to get the biggest chores done first."

"It's like when you need to clean the kitchen, but you're just about to bake something messy. You should do the baking first. Death is cleaning the kitchen."

"I see. I don't bake."

They walked in silence then.

The one with bright eyes spoke, "do you think about living like a place, too?"

"Yes, I think I think about living like a place."

"You never stay anywhere long."

"I never do."

"Why?"

Silence.

"I think I do think about life like a task," the friend with hollow eyes eventually answered.

"How so?"

"I think about places like tasks. Like things you carry while you're in them. They carry you and you carry them in turn. They get heavier the longer you carry them."

"You think about life like a place and a place like a task?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think you get heavier the longer they carry you?"

"I would like to ask."

"What a burden to carry."

"For who?"

Once again, silence.

The friend with clear eyes broke it, "I don't think I want you to die."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I would miss you, I think."

"Why?"

"Everything would become too bright. It would overwhelm me."

"Should I care?"

"Do you?"

"I think I do."

"I don't think you need to."

"I don't think I need to either."

The silence returned.

"Do we only provide each other things?"

"We do provide each other things."

"I know, but is that all."

"Explain."

"I would miss you, too."

"Why?"

"I would get lost if I were alone."

"I see."

"And I also don't want you to die."

"Because you would miss me?"

"No. I miss so much already."

"Then why?"

"I don't know. I think it's for you."

"For me?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to die. For you."

"Is that better?"

"It's different."

"It is."

Silence.

"But I will."

"What?"

"Die."

"Yeah."

"Will you grieve?"

"I already do."

"What do you mean?"

"While you are here with me, you struggle, and I grieve."

"You struggle too, and I feel grief for you also."

"I grieve that, too."

"I suppose we will continue in our grief for one another until the end of it all."

"And then we will continue in it beyond I imagine, as well."

"Maybe that's part of it."

"Part of what?"

"The point of us."

"I think you might be right."

They arrived at their destination shortly thereafter.