Not everything.
But one thing.
If I could just fix one thing, that would be enough to hold on to.
157.
now
There are three basic elements to this town, underneath everything else we’ve layered on top of it. Water, trees, stone. They are in different combinations, and sometimes one wins out over the others, but there are all three always there. For you to move with, come upon, break against.
I slow, make my way carefully through the forest. The light is going going almost gone.
I learned that night that the edges will come up on you.
158.
once, that night
I started running for the jump from the parking lot, breathless, the light going going almost gone. I cut through the trees, bushes scratching my shins in the dark. Closer. Closer. I was almost there, almost to the edge, when I came down wrong on a piece of uneven ground and twisted my ankle.
I swore out loud.
But it wasn’t broken, and I could still walk, and so I stood up and started limping through the trees. Almost there. I took in a deep breath to call out, and that’s when I heard them.
159.
now
I breathe in, out. In, out. Remembering.
The last time we came here together.
The last time we didanythingtogether.
I didn’t know it was the end, of course.
You never do.
I was trying to help. And I didn’t. I kept trying trying to help trying trying to fix trying trying to go back to how it had been and I failed. I failed that night at the jump and so many other times, too.
But this time
it’s okay.
I’m the only person
left to hurt.
160.
once, that night
I saw them. I knew their bodies. The lines of their faces when turned toward me, or away.
Ella was there.
And Alex.
