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Kaika raked the loose earth over the seeds he had scattered about him. He stopped and leaned on his rake, wiping sweat from his brow and under his lip with his sleeve. He leaned his head back and felt the sunlight on his face, lazily gazing at the sky. It was one of those perfect moments when you are so content with life that it seems like a perpetufal dream from which you never want to wake. Inside the houses, the women were preparing lunch, and the scent of spices wafted through the air. His life was simple, but he was greatful for it. This life was all he knew, but he did not care to know any other.

He could not imagine being happier, or that such things as pain and suffering existed in the world. He knew because of the warm feeling in his chest, that feeling of assurance: "Everything will be okay because I am whole."

A bird whistled in a tree at the edge of the field, drawing Kaika's attention. He drew a small flute out of his pocket and answered the bird's song. He waited for a minute, and the bird sang again. He played again and listened, but there was no answer. He put the flute away and threw some more seed on the ground. He covered it with dirt, and then his mother called him in for lunch.

He had finished eating, and his parents bade him play a little on his flute, so he began a song he thought he'd heard before, but he was not sure where. His father smoked his pipe and his mother drank her tea, both silently listening to their son's gift. Then a shortness of breath cause Kaika to stop abruptly.

"What's wrong, dear?" his mother asked.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I'll start again." He put his flute to his lips, but his mouth was dry. He began but stopped again, staring at the space in front of him. He could feel his hands turn icy cold, and he felt his heartbeat in his fingertips and in his chest, growing faster and louder until he screamed and fell on the floor. His parents rushed to him, calling his name. He lay on his back looking at their disappearing faces, hearing their fading voices as he sank in to an emotional void. His deafening heartbeat slowed, then stopped.

He was empty. Time had stopped. Then he felt brief surges of emotion. He saw his rebirth in a place he had never been, saw his family destroyed in a war he never knew, saw himself among people he liked and people he hated though he did not know why. He became aware of someone with him, and Kaika realized this person had been with him through it all. Kaika's eyes moved outward, and he saw this was the first time he had ever been alone. His soul had died, and he wanted to die too.

Kaika lay in his bed, facing the wall. He was sure that if he had not heard his parents' voices, he would not have woken up. His hand was on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Now his heart beat with half the strength it had before, and Kaika learned what it was to be lonely.

He closed his eyes and dreamed he really had died and was in heaven, if heaven existed. He sat on a hill and played his flute, and he watched the Earth move across the sky, and he was whole.

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