Five Hundred and Twenty Five Feet

I imagine that she is someone with a story. Someone whose life has been a whirlwind of the kinds of experiences most people only dream about, who’s fallen stupidly in love and disappeared across the world and climbed to the roof of a building just because she could. I imagine that what brought her here, to the summit of this beautiful mountain, to the point where she can drift away in the autumn air, is something mysterious and special.

She leans over to the man standing quietly beside her. “It’s amazing how a mile can change your perspective.”

He hums in agreement. They linger in silence for a moment, lost for words, before they settle back into their sedan and drive away.

I imagine that her words are something more than they are. I imagine that she is more than she is. I imagine that she, and they, and the mountain, and me – I imagine that we all mean something.

I settle back into my sedan and drive away.

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