The Other Side
by Cesar Puch
It’s so cold out here, more than I ever expected. I should have grabbed a sweater on my way out.
I look up at the sky and hear the quiet around me, and I remember when I got out of the car, thinking how peaceful this place was.
“You’ll like it at the cabin,” he’d said.
I came for a weekend. I’ve been here for two weeks.
I hold myself as the wind hits me. I really should go back inside. Maybe I could grab his coat.
No. He’s asleep. I must not wake him up.
I look up at the sky, at that cluster of jigsaw-shaped clouds. To me they look like a crust that’s beginning to crack. I look at them in their endless drift, and I look at the moon, so bright in the distance. I wonder what is beyond that light. I want to be on the other side.
Oh God. He’s awake now. I can hear him calling; he’s in a foul mood. Any second now he’ll know I’m not there, and then…
Oh dear God let me get away this time. I can take it no more.
I start running. I should have looked for some shoes too. The dirt is digging into my feet.
Please God, don’t let him come out. Give me some time.
His bellow makes the ground tremble. He knows.
I look up. The moon is there, watching, so bright.
If only I can reach it this time.