Saturday, March 5, 2016

In My Head/In My Mouth

"I just want you to ski to me," Katie says after about a half-hour. The hill looks impossibly steep, impossibly long, and I am so tired and panicked, so I tell her no, even as I'm pointing my skis downhill, in the requisite plow shape, and making my way slowly down to her.

The hill drops, and suddenly I'm going what feels incredibly fast, with no way to control my speed, and I do what Katie told me to do when I feel like I've lost control - I fall down.

I slide a few more feet, skidding to a stop, and try to laugh, but I taste bile.

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