He knew he had to go.

"I'm going," he said. "I have to get going." He was still shaking from the fall. He couldn't believe there was a lake underneath of him. He didn't remember one being there but then he hadn't been paying attention. This seemed to preoccupy him. "Where'd the lake come from? Certainly, I would have noticed it!"

"I've gotta get going. Come along if you want but I've got to get going." he repeated.

"But where are you going?" she asked.

"You know? I haven't given it that much thought." He paused, furrowed his eyebrowes as he looked into the distance and then said, "I am going out of the rain. I need to get out of this fucking rain. Is that alright with you?"

"Well you don't have to get pissy about it!" she snapped back at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just sick of the rain." He tried to reconcile.

All he could think was that he was terribly lonely and really scared and "Where'd the lake come from?" He had no idea where he was. He had no idea what was going on. But he seemed to be on the path and heading somewhere for a purpose. And so he walked and so she walked with him, back into the mist, back into the rain.

She had lost her tolerance for "pissyness" and left.

"But, wait!" he said.

She disappeared.

"Did it again." he thought. "Did it again. "