What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar (Fiction)

The heat was blinding as I trekked farther and farther away from the safety of my vehicle. Why did I do this? Nobody in their right mind would subject themselves to the threats of this wilderness. I took another step, and another, my energy waning all too quickly. Sweat poured in buckets from my head, and I could feel my exposed arms and face crisping in the sunlight.
It must’ve been 150 degrees out here, and me without so much as a bottle of water to quench my ever-growing thirst. It felt like miles I walked, without seeing a single indication of life.
Walking, walking, walking. Too far I had gone, too far to go. Would I make it? My life flashed before my eyes. I saw invitations to birthdays, Christmases, and baptisms, most of which I hadn’t gone to. Had I been too distant in my life? If I died here in this desert, would anybody miss me? Did anybody need me? I didn’t know anymore.

I made peace with my God, and I was listing the things that I wanted forgiveness for when I saw it, two feet away from me. My savior. The door to safety, my way out of this torture.

Thanking God and making a promise to continue our little chat later, I gratefully took the remaining step through the door to my local Walmart.