98
CONNOR
I had reached the breaking point.
I had no idea how long I’d been on the mountain. I knew only that food had become scarce, I was dirty and smelled of sweat and filth. My hair had grown long, as had my beard. I was a broken man who was desperate to be reunited with my family, a man trying to be what was expected of me but afraid I could never measure up. On this mountain, my wealth meant nothing. My genius meant nothing. My education meant nothing. My past meant nothing. There was only now.
Please, just tell me what you want of me so I can go home, I thought.
“Where is home, prophet?”
I looked up. “I don’t know,” I realized. “I no longer have a home.”
“Yes, you do.”
“My home is wherever my wife and child are,” I said. It was the only answer I could give truthfully.
“Yet
