A most debilitating battle. The Van Man fought hard. It was the conflict within and he was losing. Where was he in life? Was it okay to be there? The answers were not easy, they never were. As he sat in his van, two Persian Men argued in the car next to his. They were loud and distracting in the lamppost-lit parking lot.
Most days, Van Man felt a ping of irrational guilt. A remnant from his unwanted catholic upbringing. Was he selfish? Was everything he did selfish? Of course not, but...he had to fight to get that answer. The Persians left and the parking lot was still not quiet. The skateboarders had arrived.
What did the future hold? Who cares?, he thought to himself as he watched the skater boys bark and holler at each other. But he did care. And that was the problem.
July had come to an end. There was sadness because it would be back, the same thirty-one days. Van Man would be different the next time they met. Time changes people and people change in time. Of that there was no doubt. Whether or not The Van Man changed into something useful was the real question.