Little Town

I finally made it. The ruthless winds of December exhausted my breath into warm puffs of visible air, and the involuntary shivers wracked through my body, threatening to swallow it entirely as it almost numbed the incessant rumble of my empty stomach were it not for the feeling of overwhelming accomplishment and relief I felt the very moment my foot took the deciding step upwards onto the snowy, steep cliff. Now, the bustling noise of the looming, blinding city was nowhere near me, nor was the heavy weight of the troubles from duties that hung off these weary, creaking shoulders. Funnily enough, it all seemed meaningless at the awe-inspiring sight of light crimson, yellowish hues of seafoam that appeared as though sea waves in the seamless night sky of burning, pale stars. Even the sensation of hunger eluded me. It was the cost of realizing a childish aspiration from a younger time mingled with the impulsive tendency to escape of someone now much older. I exhaled into the thick gloves that served the only protection of my fingers from frostbite; a pitiful attempt to regain some semblance of warmth.

And I stood there for what seemed like a million moments. I was content, happy that even the exact expense of time enjoying this precious freedom was lost to me.

"Miss? Excuse me, you're standing a little too close to the edge."

The voice of a complete stranger split through the welcome silence. I sighed in irritation, noting the subtle hint of his Kiwi accent. Briefly glancing at him in his heavy layers of dull brown and grey, I could have mistaken him for a Yeti from the spread of snow stuck to his clothes.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." I quickly dismissed him, hoping that would be the end of it. I had also hoped that he would notice that I had no intentions of detaching my eyes from the colorful display of lights in front of me simply so I could humor him, but alas.

"You don't sound like you're from around here."

I rolled my eyes. Usually, I would be alarmed to be in an isolated space between a huge man of broad shoulders and a narrowing mountain brink. He could easily push me off. "Sir, if you could please leave me alone, I'd thank you again. Don't worry, I won't be jumping off." I bent my knees to find a seat in the wet snow, asserting my point.

There was a soft whooshing sound that followed his hands raising up in defense, "Alright, just being a concerned citizen. I'd hate for my kids to see a body at the foot of this place. We walk by here every thursday, and tomorrow is–"

"A thursday." I mumbled, purposely interrupting him. Maybe a lie would satisfy him. "I understand. I'll leave after a few more minutes."

"Much appreciated."

I could have released a huge noise of relief if my stomach didn't beat me first. The heat instantly rose up to my cheeks, and I frowned at his chuckle.

"Hungry? I have some leftover beef jerky from dinner." He rummaged through his humongous backpack. I pushed down the intrusive thought that he could fit a full corpse in there. Shortly after, he offered me something wrapped in aluminum foil. "It's not as hot anymore, but my wife is amazing with the oven."

"I'd rather not eat anything given by a stranger." It didn't matter if he was a self-proclaimed devoted father or a loving husband. In fact, I was almost impressed with his persistence. I tried telling him off as politely as I could for the third time now.

He clicked his tongue, "You must be a city girl. In our little town, we help each other out."

"That's how a murder happens, sir." I grumbled under my breath.