The cabin was perfect–miles beyond the reach of the last dirt road. It was well-tended; spaghetti sauce and crackers in the cupboard and an old but functioning television set in a makeshift upstairs bedroom with a cute little window.

He unloaded his provisions: barbed wire, nails, an axe, a gun, bullets.

He ate a meager meal. Then he set the barbed wire and secured the front door. Then he waited, crouched against the refrigerator, gun in hand. He waited more.

A knock at the door. He aimed and fired two bullets. Another knock. He backed away, aware that his little war was coming to an end, aware that he was going to lose. He ran upstairs to look out the window.

More assailants arrived. He fired from the window. His defiance only agitated them.

“You can’t win,” Opportunity called from behind the door. “You might as well give up,” Success shouted from somewhere in the darkness.

He listened to the noise of the front door being kicked in. He listened to footsteps ascend to the second floor.

He looked Happiness in the face. He surrendered, and he smiled a smile he had been running from for far too long.