The inquisitive one attended a few runner’s club events and became friends with another runner. They decided to meet, on the following Sunday, at a trailhead and run south along the stream together.

“I grew pumpkins this year,” said the inquisitive one, between breaths while running. “I grew two kinds of pumpkins, one kind to carve and another kind to eat.”

“That’s great!” said the friend, between breaths while running. “You will have lots of fun doing those things. My latest DIY project is building a bar area in the basement. I also want to get a pool table.”

“That’s great!” said the inquisitive one. “You will have lots of fun doing those things.”

And so then, all while running south and turning and running back north, they talked about different kinds of pumpkins and how to carve and eat them, as well as basement bars and how to build them and the difference between pool and billiards.

When they got back to the trailhead, the inquisitive one said, “Running and talking with you was fun. I would love to meet for another run sometime!”

“I hate the pumpkin craze, this time of year,” replied the friend. “Pumpkins are disgusting. Growing them is a bad idea. Most people hate pumpkins. You should grow tomatoes, instead. That’s more normal, anyway.”

That’s when the friend hopped into a souped-up minivan and sped away.

The inquisitive one was expecting a message. Surely the message would arrive today.

Most likely, the message would come via email or text. It was possible that it would come through Facebook or Twitter. WhatsApp was a distinct possibility. Then again, it could be an actual phone call. It could conceivably come through TrilliSilli, DeAppinessApp, or Appavader Rex—though these channels were less likely.

The inquisitive one had put the mobile device on the counter and started to cook something when the doorbell rang. But the garlic was about to burn, plus the water started boiling over from the other pan, and then the smoke detector started blaring. The inquisitive one removed the pans from heat, fanned off the smoke alarm with a towel, and opened the door—but no one was there.

Upon shutting the door, the inquisitive one returned to the kitchen and checked the mobile device. “No new messages!” the mobile device told the inquisitive one—though not out loud. No: the mobile device was silent.

Once all the food was cooked and put away, the inquisitive one went on a run. The inquisitive one had entered and emerged from the woods and was heading toward home when a car pulled up and rolled down its window.

“Hey, guess what?” shouted the person in the car.

The inquisitive one stopped running and stood there, panting and staring.

“I thought you were someone else,” said the person, and drove away with a squeal.

The inquisitive one resumed running, though somewhat slower than before. Upon arriving home, the inquisitive one looked at the mobile device. “You are unworthy!” shouted the mobile device—though not out loud. No: the mobile device was practicing noise neglect.

The inquisitive one put the phone on the counter next to the bathroom sink, stripped off the sweaty clothes, and got in the shower. A moth was flying around, avoiding the stream of warm water. When the moth landed on a nearby wall tile, the inquisitive one smooshed it.

At that moment, as if the inquisitive one had pushed a button—the mobile device spoke aloud!!

But . . . was it electronic singing, or, since water was rushing so loudly around the inquisitive one’s ears, was it imagination?

The inquisitive one picked up the bar of soap, fantasizing about scrolling.

The inquisitive one was running on a forest path.

The path took a sharp turn. So the inquisitive one also took a sharp turn.

And then suddenly, the inquisitive one encountered, standing directly in the path, a dog dressed like Yoda! A blanket, with pink and gray plaid stripes, had been wrapped exquisitely around the dog, who seemed to be sitting up inside the blanket. The dog was peering out from the blanket with an expression of wisdom, quiet confidence, and acceptance.

Frightened, the inquisitive one backed away, slowly turned, and ran very quickly all the way back to the trailhead.

It was then that the inquisitive one recalled seeing something, upon turning in the opposite direction from the dog, before beginning to run back. Something had been crouching in the brush . . . something with a camera. . . .

The next day, feeling overwhelmingly curious, the inquisitive one ran that way again. But there was no trace of who and what had been there the day before.

The inquisitive one was running on a little path through many trees.

“Where will this path end?” wondered the inquisitive one. “I’m going to keep running and running, until I find out!”

Very soon after that, the path dwindled rapidly and melded into and ended in a grassy backyard in the suburbs.

And the inquisitive one, standing at the end of the path, reflected that there was a better question that could have been asked, back there in the little forest.