Chasing Ladders

“We’ll draw a ladder, then,” she says.
He looks up in confusion. What ladder?
“Ladders, sorry, you know, the ones you trace the lines down to find which one leads to which. Since you can’t seem to make a decision by yourself. We need something to help you, don’t we?”
He doesn’t stop her as she takes out her notepad from her pocket. Barely a page is free from scribbles of colours, ranging from crayon to markers to watercolour. Some are smeared with not yet-dried oil smudges. Why would you even put that in your pocket? He thinks that her notepad looks like a site of explosion. Her tender napalm dropped down on her world of imagination.
“This will have to do.” She holds it out.
“I can’t really make out what the ladder is from all this mess. Why are these pink lines diagonal anyways?”
“The ladders, not the ladder, stupid.”
She angrily squeaks down a few more yellow lines with her highlighter. "Does that make it any clearer?" She asks.
“It’s not got any options down here, though.”
“Of course I can’t write it down for you to see, it won’t be random then!”
Quite honestly, he can’t really see the point of choosing any of the lines to start with in the first place. But of course he doesn’t say that aloud. He never would. He considers, the first one is rather intriguing. It’s only got one way to start on – just like the situation he’s tricked himself into now. He chooses it.
She trails the path down to the bottom.

Chasing Ladders

“Yes! Bath! I knew it! We’ve decided – you’ve decided, no going against it now, it was your choice!”
Her huge smile gives him a warm hug. Did my choice even matter to you in the first place? The words swallow themselves before he catches them escaping from his tongue. She looks so happy. Isn’t that enough? he asks himself.