All paths to success have highs and lows.
It's the in-betweens you have to watch out for.
They are the spirits of lost time. Patient as ever, for they are always comfortable, they wait for you in the soft sunlight of your favorite chair. They invite you to sit, take a load off, and bask in the good life.
Take a break. Treat yourself.
And, you do because they are quite persuasive. They remind you of the work it took to reach your latest high or the despair you felt at your recent low.
It is better to stay here, they suggest, where you are safe and stable, and nothing can surprise you. So you do.
Then they eat you.
Moment by moment. Chance by chance. Until they are all but sure, you will never again try anything that might disrupt the comfortable life you have. They grow fat on your unwritten books, untraveled trips, and everything you leave unsaid.
But the in-betweens are forgetful spirits.
They don't remember the last time you got bored of it all and rushed off to a new job in a new city far away from your family and friends. Mad as hell they were when you chased the girl of your dreams to a foreign land.
So they are quite surprised when you go for a walk this morning.
You return sweaty and sore (it's been a while), but instead of stuffing your face, you take a shower. Then you do the dishes and the laundry and start sorting through the old mail on the counter. At the bottom of the pile are the papers that started this all. Your signature is all that is left.
It's weird to see her handwriting in the house again. Such a strange thing to miss, but you do. You miss the weird left-handed way she held her pen. You miss her laugh at your mentioning of it. But, most of all, you miss the nights when you two spoke face-to-face without anger and regret.
You pick up your pen.
The in-betweens are nervous now. One of them knocks a box of donuts off the counter, but it hardly registers. Another glitches your phone, playing the song you danced to in that Spanish café. Then, in a final act of desperation, a spirit sends the faintest scent of her perfume.
They watch in horror as you sign the papers and walk them to the mailbox.
The house is emptier when you return.
Maybe the in-betweens will be back. Maybe, not.
That's up to you.