The waiting was the worst. Sitting alone the sidelines of life, waiting to get in, play a little. He questioned whether it was fear or apathy that kept him there. Not fear of the unknown, but a dread of making the wrong move, at the wrong time. Thus the apathy, as it was better to just sit pat, stick to a routine, stay out-of-focus, vanilla. He’d tried, in fits and starts, to break free, get in there. But always the gnaw in his heart was the pull of the darkness, that rich, earthy smell of decay that would grab hold. Just another eggshell for the compost pile. Even when the snap of tragedy changes things, changes his very being, the light fails to come on, like a guy who has a heart attack and after rehab buys a pack of smokes. He knows what needs to be done. He knows he has to break free. He knows the future belongs within his purview. With new interests, a fearless step.