Choosing Which Kind of Lost

In a parched season, a long pathway snaked through the land. Everyone traveled it.

Merchants, students, elders, adventurers. It was the only

route forward. Then 2025 hit and the pathway fractured. Not all at once. Gradually.

One morning, wanderers arrived at the midpoint and discovered two diverging ways where

only one had existed. No markers guided them. No whispers offered direction.

Some hurried left, chasing speed and certainty like it was the last slice of pizza.

Others veered right, moving slow like they were carrying a full cup of coffee. A handful just stood

there, frozen like a buffering video. Weeks melted away. The left path zoomed