A suitcase in each hand, I walk alone the dusty road. The sun beats down on my back and blazes over the yellow, thirsty fields without mercy. Sweat pours down my face as my body desperately tries to cool itself, but there is no shadow from the scorching sun, there is no rest for my weary feet. But I walk on.
I stumble in exhaustion. My mind and feet are unconnected, my thoughts too disjointed to lull a response from my tired feet. The suitcases in my arms fall, and I lay sprawled in the dust, hoping Death doesn't tarry on his way to meet me. He must have arranged an appointment for us long before I began this journey, and will be pleased at the lack of fight left in me. I will be easy to snatch the breath from and bury in the contents of my suitcases, a mere distraction from the schedule he tends.
A shadow falls over me. Expecting Death, I close my eyes tightly, but minutes fall away before I realize Death has not claimed me. Instead, a man, unextraordinary in appearance and yet just as fascinating, blocks the sun from overhead, and I bask in the relief. He peers down at me, and asks me "Why are you on the
ground?"
"I can't go on anymore" I state simply.
He looks to me, and then to me suitcases.
"What is so important to you that you must take it with you?" He murmurs as he reaches to unlatch the smaller of the two.
"NO!" I shriek, and with a rush of fear-inspired energy, I beat him to the suitcase.
He raised an eyebrow.
"May I?" He asks softly.
"You most certainly may not!" Doesn't this man understand privacy?
"Please?"
Apparently not.
"Why do the contents of my suitcase intrigue you so?" I ask, making sure he feels the sting of my indignition. The nerve of this man, believing the contents I carry should be any concern of his.
"I just wonder what is weighing you down." He replies.
My defense falters, and my hardened eyes turn away from his face.
"You don't want to know." I whisper as my eye betrays a tear.
He catches it on the tip of his finger and says gently
"I do."
I know he means it. And his sincerity rings in his words, and I know if he see's the contents of my load, he will not exploit me, he will not judge me, he will not be disgusted.
And so he unlatches the small suitcase, and he pulls out the the crumpled fear that I have thrown inside hastily. He seperates the anxiety and worry and he smoothes them out, and then, to my dismay, he pulls them over his head.
Wordlessly, I watch him as he opens the larger, and the stench of my shame, guilt, secrets and pain fill the air. He wraps my bitterness around his shoulders, clothes himself in all that I have been carrying. And then, when he is wrapped so tightly in all the things that I have carried for so long, he offers me a hand. And he carries me too.
The sun still beats down, and I know all those layers must be terribly uncomfortable, so I offer to walk beside him, for he has given me a strength I was lacking. And we fall in step, and the dusty road feels shorter, because I have a companion.
The journey has finally, truly begun, with two steps of footprints.
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