Drip, drip, drip, drip. The sound of water splattering the bottom of the barrel. A steady trickle creates tiny pools of water. When we take a peek at the bottom, six or eight faces stare back at us. It's hard to tell exactly how many faces, I guess it depends on the day. Over time each pool grows larger until they eventually start connecting into one. Eventually a shallow pool emerges and covers the bottom of the barrel. When we peer into the barrel again a striking resemblance of us looks back. Who are we?

A foundation of sorts is created by the dripping water. When viewed from below it appears as if the water droplets are falling from the sky. But we're inside, never venturing outside, so the droplets are coming from an unknown source. Regardless of the source, the water continues. A sense of security and normality overwhelms us. There is plenty of room in the barrel for the drops to continue for years.

Each drop that lands in the pool causes the next drop to fall a little shorter each time. When you stare at the pool the depth seemingly stays the same. When you leave for a time and come back, you notice the depth change, if only slightly. Innate in us is the desire to watch the barrel fill up. Something in our background tells us that the more drops the better.

Periodically we come to the barrel to check on the depth and when it is growing too slow we drop a rock in the pool. With each rock comes a noticeable rise in the depth. When only one of us throw in a rock the other person knows it. At times, we throw in a rock together. Those seem to be the most rewarding drops.

Standing around the barrel, glued to it like a TV, we watch the drops. What is the purpose of the barrel? Where is the water coming from? Each drop sends concentric circles to the edge of the barrel. The drops are falling directly in the middle of the barrel. Each wave hits the edge at the exact same time. Like clock work.

Years go by and our visits to the barrel have become more infrequent. Each time the depth seems to remain the same. One day I visit the barrel by myself and in a fit of frustration drop a larger than normal rock in by myself. I underestimated the effect of the rock on the water level. The water immediately rises to the top and spills over the edge. I panic while I realize there is nothing I can do. If I clean up the mess on the floor she will notice the towels. Not to mention that the water level is now brimming the top.

A flash of surreality hits me when the reality sets in. Now that the water is lipping over the edge every single drop will push a tiny bit of water over the edge. The floor around the barrel will always have water on it now. No matter what I do she will see the water dropping on the floor. I scramble to think of a diversion, some elaborate system to reroute the drops. Foolish of me to think about it.

The problem is that we cannot go back to the barrel to drop in rocks together without the water pouring over the edge. The joy we experienced with each rock dropped in will have a profoundly different effect now. Dropping the rock is still an option. But now we will have to clean up the mess with each rock. Return on investment. Who are we going to be?