King Hill

The sun set low across distant mountain ranges as we pulled in through the gates, quiet trees looming over the dirt road and a little cottage waiting at the end. Below the house, the river snaked past, and everything was quiet in that way the world can only be at the edge of civilization. We made jokes about serial killers where no one can hear you scream, but the truth is we knew we'd have nothing to worry about, the truth is we knew we'd found a moment's peace and all we had were ourselves and the words we'd brought.

In the morning, I ran along an abandoned highway, alone save for the sound of sprinklers in the distance and birds wild in the trees. The world goes on forever here, and somehow so did I, the space in my chest growing with each step, as the stresses inside it subsided and gave way for something bigger. We settled into the silence then, pulled out worlds we had created in our minds, stories we could not help but tell. I told them this time is a gift you give yourself, and my list of gratitudes expanded infinitely.

At the end of the world, there is little room for your stresses and fears. At the end of the world, there is only the breath in your lung, the story on your lips, and the only thing left to do
is tell it.