On the Edge of Everything (Six Ficlet Challenge)
How does it feel to stand on the edge of the world?
I wouldn’t know, but I’d imagine it’s a lot like this. With the right mixture of loss and lonliness, anything feels like an edge. Even if you’re standing in the middle of the longest, flattest expanse of land you’ve ever seen in your life.
My tomato-red pickup truck is parked a few yards back, both windows rolled down all the way and the driver’s side door still hanging open. All around me, dust blows up in little ringlets shaped like mini-tornados. And it’s probably close to ninety degrees, but I hug my arms around myself like it’s the coldest day of the year.
I stand here, with a shovel at me feet, but I am surprisingly afraid to dig.
Give up dreaming. Give up hoping. Have no expectations. Never be disappointed.
If I put the tip of this shovel into the ground, if I move the whole Earth for you, and I find nothing, you’re just another notch on the disappointment chain.
So I pick up the shovel, and I hate myself for crying.
And I dig.