I drove with her in the trunk for some time. It felt like days, but they tell me it was merely hours. I remember the snow in the ditches as I drove, and how they cascaded and morphed their shape into white misty dunes. I thought about driving into them, but I didn’t want to die that way. I never wanted to freeze to death, I hate the damn winter. Why I chose north as my direction, I do not know.
I remember it was so frigid outside, I could hear the snow squeak under the car tires as I pulled into that abandoned cul-de-sac. There was a small gulley between some heavy pine trees off to the side, and it looked so peaceful. I thought that would be a good place for her. When I stepped out of the car, the air was so sharp it made me cough and lose my breath. The snot in my nose froze instantly, making my sinuses sting. I didn’t think to bring any gloves, so I pulled my shirt sleeves down around my hands. It didn’t do much good cause the air still hurt my fingers.
Maybe it took me awhile, because I didn’t want to look at her body, but I had to open that trunk. There she was, stiff and blue. Her head was tilted back so I couldn’t see her eyes at first; they were staring up at the white sky, but I had to pick her up. Her body was heavier than before, and I had to use her blanket to hoist her out of the trunk. My nose was burning, and my hands hurt as I drug her from the car to that gulley between the tall snowy pines. It was freezing, and I
wasn’t dressed for it. Damn northern winter. The snow was too deep and I kept falling. Once, I fell on top of her and had to look at her glazed eyes. It was the snow’s fault.
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.