Two roads diverged in a wood. And I-
I turned around and headed straight back to the village. Once I reached the village, I headed straight to the pub. Once in the pub, I headed straight to the table where the fat man sat. My fury was rising.
‘The road forks?’ I asked. ‘The straight road, with no twists or turns or bends or detours? The road without ANY FUCKING FORKS ?’
‘Robert,’ breathed the fat man. ‘Calm yourself. Have some ale.’
‘You told me…YOU TOLD ME !’
‘I told you how to get home. You must have lost your way.’
He gulped from his tankard. ‘It is a straight road. My carriage travels along it at least twice a year, I know it well.’
I knew he was playing with me, I can tell a fork when I see one. My fury was rising.
“Robert, if perchance you mistook a deer trail for a fork, or a laneway to a farmhouse, it is only because you are so weary. You had best be more careful next time. They are waiting for you.’
‘This time,’ I told him, ‘you’re coming with me.’
His fury rose.