What is the meaning of life?

With one hour left I still question rummaging, opening up every door, drawer, even looking under the rugs searching.

It is then that I remember the old baton in the back of my closet.

Reaching for it, it slips through my fingers but I manage to hold on to it running down the street passing it to an unknown soul.

"What is this for?" He asks.

"The answer."

"What answer?"

"You will know when your time comes."

And I walk away with a minute to spare knowing it has just been that straightforward all along.

We live and we die.