“Look,” said one to the other, “there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
The light was small, but the other saw that it was true.
“The only way out is through,” said the other to the first.
They were inclined to quicken their pace and perhaps did for a few steps before relenting to the already regular rhythm.
“No reason to rush since we haven’t.”
The tunnel was less artful than some. The wall curved into ceiling, which curved into wall. The suffocated expanse was paved with rectangular tiles of a ghostly cream, oriented with their length in opposition to the tunnel’s.
If they had been alone, each might’ve lost their sturdy old mind, but in moments of individual weariness, forward was always retained by one.
Or has my weariness been taken advantage of and have we turned around? Each wondered at times about the other.
When they were still some distance from the opening, the light became vertically stratified.
“Trees,” said the younger one.
The older one didn’t respond because he hadn’t seen, still couldn’t see, and wondered when or even if he would be able to at all.
Eventually he could see, of course. They were trees. By the time he did, the younger one knew that they were not just some trees, but many.
It took a rather long time to reach the end.
They were quiet as they left the tunnel.
Finally, one said to the other, “Not out of the woods yet.”
