It was the strange sensation of wanting to sleep after being perfectly awake, like the adrenaline rush fading after the big bad wolf took the first bite. There was a moment of silence between us, a mutual solemness and mourning. It all drifted away on the next breeze, a strong gust of wind that blew a miniature snowstorm into our faces.
Suddenly, we were human again and that understanding was gone. We were human in every sense of the word, good, bad, neutral. We were human and I was exhausted. The weight of the world had sat itself upon my shoulders, the universe gnawing at my very existence. I could hear Mother Nature cooing to me, telling me it was time. It was quite the insult in its own twisted way, telling me I was no longer needed. I had outlived my purpose.
I'd like to think he'd understood, but I'm sure he didn't. He definitely didn't understand. And I smiled, upon realising this. He was a creature of simplicity, the type that looks at the world with the same twisted views as the media. He was the bane of my existence. The thing that nailed my feet to the ground, but also kept them there long enough to rot. It was funny.
Actually, it was only funny until the big bad wolf came back for his second bite. I thought it was rather hilarious at this point, even after I'd fallen into the snow. He only watched on. I knew soon there'd be ambulances, and that maybe I'd awake to white. Not as white as the snow, but still white. White is white.
While he was a flurry of incoherent rambling and questions, with his feet still bound safely to the Earth, I was being lifted by memories of poppyseeds and treehouses. A rusted porch swing. I felt very much like a porcelain doll sitting on the very edge of a counter, the type its owner constantly watched, just to make sure it never fell off. It wasn't funny anymore. The wolf was back for his meal.
I could taste salt on my tongue, and it was as though the snow had become the sea. I was drowning in it now, and the big bad wolf had become a vicious shark. I was never fond of sharks. Never. They were odd looking things with sharp teeth and bad eye sight, taking a bite out of anything that looked like food if they were hungry enough. I didn't fear them. They were just odd.
They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. It honestly does. Where you are is your life. That is where your life has taken you, what all your efforts have worked you up to. It's life's way of pointing at you and laughing while you're already down, the type that makes you want to crawl into a corner and die. And then you do.
I knew I was dying before he knew I was dead, and I'd imagine once he realised it, he'd tasted salt upon his tongue too.
My mouth fell open.
I think I might of said something.
I think whatever I said might have drowned him with me.