The rain hit the windows softly. The room was darker, the curtains drawn, the lights turned off. Pudge was sitting at the desk in his dorm room, staring at a book. A book with slightly bloated pages and little ink trails running down the pages. He knew they were there, even though he hadn't opened the book. He'd hardly touched it since he'd taken it from her room, yet here it was, sitting on his desk.
"How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!"
I know now, Alaska. I know how to get out of this labyrinth. All I needed was to see it. And through you, I did.
I see Alaska.
The Colonel walked into the room, hair and clothes wet from the rain. "You just gonna sit there all day, Pudge? It's bufriedo day." He sauntered over to the desk, eyeing the book. "Man, you can't keep staring at a book like that. I know it was hers, but you've been at it all day."
Pudge shook his head. "I- "
"At least read it. That's what she would've wanted you to do. Don't let it catch dust." He left for the cafeteria.
Pudge took a deep breath. He let his fingers graze the cover, brush the spine.
Alright.
He opened The General in His Labyrinth and began to read.
The Colonel came back to the dorm later that night, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He flicked on the light.
Pudge had fallen asleep at the desk, head in the pages of the book. The Colonel could see that it was the page with Simón Bolívar's last words. He read them, though he knew very well what they were.
The Colonel picked up a pen and wrote on Pudge's arm while he slept:
The only way out is through -Robert Frost
"Hope it helps, you fucker," The Colonel muttered to himself, tossing the cigarette away. "You're damn lucky I learned about Frost."
And with that, The Colonel shut off the light and climbed into his bed.
We'll get through this Alaska. I know we can.
He drifted off.