It was an interesting story he had been telling. Sometimes I really wish I were a better listener, though. You know? Every conversation, every story has its natural ebb and flow; I get that. But so does everything else. it's not always so easy to slow your focus, to train it on just one character and his or her particular journey.

They say that the journey is more important than the destination, and I agree. The destination, that's just one place, just one moment suspended in a time that one almost never reaches with any ease. The journey, though, is a rich soil of potential. The journey is a hub from which an infinite number of spokes can radiate in every direction — you can't really blame me for getting a little distracted by all that possibility.

It always comes back around, though. While I explored the fascinating web of what-if that had been set down in front of me, action rose and fell without my noticing. Motives were revealed, plot twists were dropped, and exposition was patiently doled out via secondary — and sometimes even tertiary — characters' dialogue. Was I off on my own journey, despite the one whose construction was being so carefully laid out for me? Was that just as valid as the journey whose details were apparently being missed at the time? Was it maybe even more valid? I sometimes wonder if I had actually missed something, because before I knew it, the amazing story had drawn itself to a close.

It felt odd — maybe the main character's dramatic death would have resonated with me mor thoroughly if I hadn't failed to pick up on the pieces that contributed so much emotional context to the story's resolution.

It wasn't until the very end, though (and maybe even a few minutes later), that I began to really wish I had been paying attention.

Maybe then I would've realized that I had been the main character the entire time.