The straps of his back-pack chaffed and pulled against his shoulders, the weight of each uneven step threatening to topple him back down the slope. His boots crunched the tiny pebbles that slided and slid, plumes of dust flicking into the still air. His rugged breath matched the cicadas, and the only moisture was the unwelcome crawl of sticky sweat down his nose and cheeks. He licked the salt from his lips and spat with a growl. “Bloody hell” he muttered before tossing the bag off his back and scrambling to wipe his stinging eyes. This was stupid. He cried as he kicked a log, the pain shot up his toe and the echo of his swearing came back at him from the surrounding rocky hills. The only indication he’d heard was the subtle halt of insect chatter before it started up again. He slumped down onto the log he’d just abused. “Why am I even in this ridiculous place?!” he said into his hands before pulling the sweat-dampened pamphlet from his pocket. “Find your Happy Place!” it said, the ink now running. He was going to kill that idiot hippy at work who suggested he take this nature retreat. “I think some time in nature could give you a little more reason to be happy,” he’d said. Shows what he knew. This whole exercise had been pure hell, and he’d be glad to get back to his flat in the city, have a feed and put the game on. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m done.” He stood to retrieve his bag, now back to the car and left this whole business behind.

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He stopped at a shrill that startled him, a sound from beneath his bag, and began laughing. “Jesus, almost gave me a heart attack, mate!” The lizard regarded him with boredom. “I’ve lost it.” Talking to the wildlife. “Maybe I should just shut up.” As he said this a breeze flowed causing him to take a long breath. It was then his eyes landed on a white flower. It was tiny, smaller than his fingernail. He crouched to see it closer and smiled. Happy. The cicadas seemed to take on a soothing tone where before they were harsh. Or was it just him being hushed this time. It felt fresh as he stood up again. The birds, the trees, the land, had they always looked so bright? Has the sky danced like that before? Had his lungs felt so full before? Some scent filled the air, or it was sweet, the same warmth that stifled him before now held him safely. He felt different … new … happy. Something. That lizard, that flower, that log had spoken to him all without words. In this strange but safe silence he picked up his bag and continued on to learn more about his happy place. He walked on, thinking that maybe he didn’t need to “find”, just listen, see, breathe, to be happy.