What Happens in the Mountains


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She was like the night sky; so beautiful people had to stare. For the night sky and its dazzling diamonds, people drove away from the fake lights of the city and laid out on their blankets and the grass. What did they see, staring up into the vast darkness? Faced with such incomprehensible depth, their awe stayed their trivial problems and made them feel small, powerless. That was how he felt looking into the eyes of one Winter McKinley.


Didn’t she see how much he needed her? Couldn’t she imagine the pain she made him go through every time she pushed him away? He dreamt of her teasing laugh every night, and awoke to a cold, empty bed. Every head of sun-kissed hair floating in the sea of students made his heart speed up, until he realized that it didn’t belong to the woman he loved. She had him wrapped around her little finger and all she had to do was call and he’d be by her side, within seconds.


But she never called. She never asked. She never said a word.


He tucked the bottle into his pocket, picked up the drink and placed it by her side before slipping into the jostling crowd. He watched from the walls as she brought it to her lips.


She was like the night sky; the darkness in her overpowered the rare stars and strangled out the lights until they were only weakly blinking, dying embers. There was so much darkness that when he looked at her, all he could feel was a slow, suffocating death, like being compressed by something as nasty and invisible as a black hole.


“You must be looking at the wrong night sky, then,” was all she said.

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