A man walks up to me looking rather confident. "You have 206 bones in your body." He is incorrect but i allow him to continue. "Want another?" I can see the slight hint of pain in his eyes as he asks me this. The slight twinge of a free spirit with a big heart he just cant quite fit anywhere, longing desperately to be released from the confines of his unending loneliness. I take pity on him. Ive wandered this desolate road most of my life. Its cold and if you listen closely you can hear the slight howl of the wolf waiting patiently to destroy you and leave nothing of your once resilient and immovable spirit. With every step you take you can feel a part of you draining, dying between your trembling hands. I look into his eyes, the vessels which contain his universe. That mask his pain. I say to him, "No, do you?" He begins to cry, the bound and restrained emotions violently escaping their imprisonment. Free. He is free at last. He shakily informs me that he had but 57 bones left. People would always take his bones but they would never give. Sounds about right, all thats left on this path are the black emotionless shells left behind after the wolf broke them. They are not human. Sometimes i wonder if i am. I rip out my tibia and give it to him and i realize, i am human. Not just physically. I embody the human spirit, the love that swirls inside me relentlessly waiting to be blessed upon another. He accepts my tibia with tears in his eyes and places it in his pocket, carefully cradling this part of me he now owned. I know now, i am truly human.
