The end, or knot.

Bottle wandered the hallways, lost in thought. Is it really over? Did i miss a thing? Watch out for that pothole. Did we already do it, or did i just imagine not having done it yet? I need a spin doctor, or something. The rest of his thoughts were somewhat less coherent, more flashing lights and pretty colors than actual grammatical sentences.

There was a lot of snapping, though. Lost in his mind, he didn't seem to notice that every snap blinked another architectual anomoly into the wake of his existence. An escalator appeared, then a frighteningly ornate wood-framed mirror. A hallway that stretched as far as visible sight would allow, but almost certainly farther than that. From a distance, his path traced a giant spiral through space, as though his left leg were ever so imperceptably shorter than his right leg. Suddenly he stopped and turned back to retrace his steps, when a voice stopped him again. "Hey, mister. Where are you headed?"

Without so much as a blink of a pause, Bottle replied "mister waters the plants, you can call me Bottle."

"I know that, silly" replied the voice.

"You sound like a Sandra."

"How could you possibly remember that?! It was lifetimes ago." The voice, still invisible as far as any spectators could tell, seemed somehow bewildered and giddy at the same time. After an awkward pause, probably due to Bottle's misinterpretation of the question as rhetorical, she said "up here."

"Oh, ok, good. I wasn't sure if you were real or imaginary. Not that that makes a difference. You remind me of someone i used to know."

"Named Sandra?"

"That depends, Sandra was her name, but people called her lots of other things that weren't. Even useless superheroes have alter egos. It's all well and good to ask why are you here, but you aren't, you're up there and my neck's not as stretchy as it used to be."

"I'll come down then."

Again, the proverbial spectator might remark on the absence of actual happenings, but somehow the two now stood facing each other.

Bottle smiled. "Hi, Sandra. What brings you here?"

"My legs."

"There's the bite. Lovely"

"I'm hiding."

"Ok."

"You're not even going to ask why?"

"Why ask why? Bullfrogs and wasabi [snap] football puppies [snap, snap] not my beverage. It is what it is."

"That's refreshing. Still, what is it?"

"The epic question. The answer, of course, is it's it no matter what it is. Everything's connected in some way or another. You just have to figure out which path you're supposed to be taking at the moment."

"I don't know, i kind of like it back up there watching you bumble around."

"Ok, suit yourself. You're welcome to tag along whenever you want. It's nice to face a familiar face."

"What are you planning?"

Bottle looked around, and finally seemed to notice the haphazard structures assembling around him. "No plans. But, i'm apparently world building. I ran out of labels, so i have to open 'em up one at a time to remember what's inside. All in all, though, this feels like the right place to be. So, how'd you like an office up there?"

"Can i have a bean bag chair?"

"Don't see why not [snap] don't be a stranger, though."

"Thanks, Bottle. You can come back here anytime, too."

"What if i get lost?"

"If you're lost and you look.... Just make a permanent path. How'd you get here the first time?"

"3 lefts and a right. Yeah, that'll work. Just do me a favor."

"What?"

"Keep track of it all for me, like draw a map or something. Oh, and tell me to shut up whenever i look about to wander off. Helps me focus on the now and its actual later."

"That's two favors."

"Yeah, i count wrong sometimes, and i tend to round up or down too often. I like the process, but i don't have much interest in the actual answer. Do it or don't's my motto. Now, if you'll excuse me for a while, there's some strange sounds over thataway, and i'd quite like to find out who or what is making them."

As she watched Bottle amble off, a trail of assorted doodads and curiosities falling out of the holes in his over-stuffed pockets with every step, Sandra smiled. It does feel like the right place to be, she thought. It feels like home.