He was alone in the room. The leather cushions of the small couch he sat upon squeaked as he shifted his body weight. He had been waiting for roughly twenty minutes, a person always of the mind that “on time” was actually late. He was the first of the group to arrive for the trip. A trip intended to re-live the “glory days” of an old group of friends who had not seen each other in a long while. He wondered if for good reason. The receptionist had ushered him in and told him to make himself comfortable, offering the seat where he now sat. They then had vanished and he had heard and seen nothing of them since. As he looked around the room he noted the decor was what you could call “western.” Lots of wood. Lots of leather. And above the dormant fire place a large horned skull. If it had once actually been a creature, or if it was a cast of a once been creature, he could not say. The sockets where eyes would once have been caught his gaze. He stared into them. Initially trying to determine the object’s authenticity but soon his thoughts slipped deeper. Had it been authentic, once living, he wondered what those eyes would have seen. What they would have experienced… what they would have perceived and therefore felt. He transitioned seamlessly to parallels in his own life. How fragile everything is. This once strong, magnificent beast- fast, powerful, beautiful, its remnants now simple lodge decor. He chuckled, but just once, thinking no one would display his own skull so proudly. He thought someday he would be nothing more than bones just as these. A single tear strewn down his cheek as he whispered, barely audibly: “nothing lasts.” At that very moment his oldest friend burst in the front door, laden with duffle bags, a satchel, and a cowboy hat that had obviously been newly purchased for this trip. “Rick!” His friend exuberantly exclaimed- but who’s face softened after noticing that single tear. Rick rose from the small leather couch as his friend asked: “What’s wrong man?” To which he replied: “oh, nothing, its just stupid…” “hey, Rick, SR (short for Slick Rick. A name he had earned in Vegas on a similar trip- when without breaking eye contact with his friends for a moment of the entire interaction, said: “watch this,” put a thousand dollars down on a bet, smiled at them, and increased his money ten-fold. To which the entire room had erupted.) Nothing is stupid if it’s bothering you. What’s going on?” “Oh I was just sitting here waiting, and started to think about that skull over the fire place, and, its silly… it just got me thinking that nothing lasts.” Rick’s friend put down his bags with intent, took off his new hat, and walked over. He grasped Rick’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye: “You’re right. Nothing lasts. But would you want it to? Isn’t that the beauty of it all? If good things lasted forever would we value them? How else would we have stories to tell and memories to share? SR- you wouldn’t be Slick Rick if you won the bet every time- you’d just be Rick.” Rick smiled and his friend continued: “My oldest, dearest friend in this world- we value our time precisely because it is finite.” “You’re right,” Rick admitted and met his friend’s eye line. “Now,” his friend said, “lets value the hell out of this weekend.”