He stared out the window, into the foggy night. The curtains were half drawn, but he still watched through the small opening, and waited. Waited for that moment of truth, when all of the puzzle pieces would reveal themselves as a thing of beauty. A spot of light appeared on the horizon, growing larger each second, until, with a roar, the car passed by, the light fading into the distance. He sighed. Reaching out to his left, he picked up the picture that meant so much to him, the picture that held all of the security of the past. It was a moment in his history, ten years ago, he was six years old then. He smiled as he looked at that picture. It was a family picture, brothers and sisters all there, the parents smiling in that ever so boring way at the unseen camera. The siblins, lined up, nice and proper. And there he was, lips in, tongue out, fingers behind his brother's head. It had meant nothing then, and it was precisely that point which gave it so much meaning. Free to mean nothing. Free to do nothing. Free to be nothing. Now, his siblings were gone. College, university, marriage, had taken them from the home. And there he was, sitting there, in front of that window. When was he going to mean something? Do something? Be someone? Would he? Could he? Should he? Another car flew past, heading towards some destination he would never know. What if that person died, in that car? Would he go to hell? Shouldn't he have flagged down that car, just in case? That person might suffer forever, because he didn't stop him. A person dies every second. At most, half of them have come to a personal faith in Jesus. A person goes to hell every two seconds. Because he wasn't there with them, talking with them, showing love for them. It was late. He closed the curtain.