Nomgifpous Namtilpus, A stupid Numbers game.”

It was a dangerous thing to be directionless in a desert. More so at any hour before or after dusk, but these things happen. To put it politely, whatever led up to this rather large happenstance was likely very stupid, and was sadly very much in character.

It didn’t change the dissatisfaction she had with her friend. Sharla would drag her anywhere if she let her.

The thing was that it wasn’t a singular issue. Sure there was a faulty wire, or a flat tire, or some manner of linchpin, but they were lost now, and she was certain that if there had ever been a road, they weren’t on it.

Which was really a fancy way of saying, there was only sand beneath their feet, and a soon blistering sun waiting for them at the other side of the horizon.

“We’re lost.” Althea says to the parched air, she looks to her friend. Sharla was only a few paces in front of her, as sure one way as she would be the other.

The sun is hot on them both when she says it, “Yes. And I’m certain saying so isn’t a waste of saliva.”

“2 to 11. What’s waste?” Althea askes, wanting to speak since there was nothing to do.

“5 to 5 what’s left?” Sharla says a little nonsense for the not-road. She wanted those to be the hours, cool enough even here, but that’s just the words in her head. It’d be better for them, but Althea was never bound by things like that.

“Even enough 7 to 16.” She says certain enough that they weren’t as bad at self-management as Sharla knew they were. To Althea it was a Sharla problem, but if they broke it down it was that only one of them could be behind the wheel.

Breaking the wheel was as good as remaking it, but that was only true if you knew where you were going.

“Liar still, we’re pushing 33.” That’s true to the words, but it wasn’t like she was lonely. Considering that Althea was afraid to be so. Couldn’t have anything to do with being lost without a compass, or any fairer stars.

The suns too bright for this.

“You say that, but we’re still older together.” She says, like it wasn’t unkind to them both.

“Don’t talk about that.” Was all Sharla could say to that, how many words. What were the syllables?

45 over 60, it wasn’t their ages, but it’ll look it after a few days of proper – if undesired - sun. Raisins really, prunes if their lucky. Pleather if their stinky.

What a world? Well, at least she accepted it. It wouldn’t have been better if the dunes gave way under a cooler sun, they’d still be stuck in a dry over desolate place.

They don’t speak, despite the pathetic ramble she kept in her head. Opting rather, to pass the disturbance around in her mind, like a motor to keep up her energy. It shouldn’t be like this, a cracking throat beneath the cover of sickness, but it was as the morning hours were beset by high noon.

Watching their shadows, as they were swallowed into the nothing beneath there bodies on the path. For all the feeling this could bring, Sharla was hungry. The sharp notion of a stomach full of teeth nipping at her spine, as they walked real thoughts into oblivion.

“I’m hungry.” Althea says. Sharla despite her flagging out of view doesn’t respond. Althea doesn’t like this, so she continues, “I’d ask for something, but its only the sun out here.”

“Do you plan on eating it?” Sharla asks finally looking toward the shadows beneath them both. Althea almost enjoys the idea, swallow the sun, let it blot out as a light. Tame it as sustenance in stomach acid, instead of their bones, instead of fat beneath skin, instead of their thoughts, as the brightness beat it out of them both.

“Sounds better than the sand, let alone anything that’d grow here.” Althea says as she looks about toward the deep red sand, and into the dullness of hunger.

“That’s a great way to feel, isn’t it?” There’s no notice as to who says it, but as sweat pulls itself off skin into what should be cooling vapors, Sharla thinks it was her.

Still she was boiling.

“We wouldn’t be hungry now, if we weren’t so lost.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter since its true.” Althea says, rather certain that it didn’t matter even if she complained.

“It doesn’t matter, but your still in lockstep. Don’t you understand what you’re doing?” Sharla asks, all too serious now that it was past high noon.

Althea stands steady noticing the time, and the burning in her arch, “What’s so wrong?”

And Sharla responds, “25, 27, 60.”

“That’s a great way to feel, isn’t it?” Althea says, knowing the missing 8, it explains nothing. But its nice that she was counting. As she looked to Sharla to explain herself better than that.

“No. It isn’t,” Sharla says sinking her feet just a little, “We’re walking in circles.”

“No we’re not, we’re walking in pairs.” Althea says, without a doubt they’d been walking in a straight line.

“As a pair…” She corrects, 29, 8, 15, “We still need better direction.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t eat the sun. It might be salty.” Althea says parched, the sun might swallow itself, but that wouldn’t make it yummy.

“Unlikely, heavy mettle-meddle-metal is more the problem there.” Sharla said as a matter of fact. Maybe she’s tried to before.

“I shouldn’t pry, but I wonder what bravery tastes like.”

“Probably metallic.” Sharla says simply, “Like blood.”

“Are you leaving?” Althea asked, upset. Wondering if she’d finally done enough to make her disappear. If she’s finally failed badly enough that she’d have to know it.

That’s when she sees it all by herself, what feels like a mirage to her aching feet, as she moved blindly forward.

She looked into the lake, an oasis no less, as the night sky glinted off its slow vaporous surface. She looked into the moons reflection and could’ve confused it for the sun, if for a moment ever-waning to the doldrums of loss, but as it turns out, she, her friend and the sun were one, and the moon had been snapped in two.

Even if it was all in her head, it was still just the moon.

Even if she’d gone and broke it.

“It’s not fair.” She thinks realizing that she is in fact alone here.