On the Mountain

by Riley Hart

It had been days since I’d been down the mountain, but I could still feel his gaze on my skin. Not with disdain or disgust like some of the other townsfolk. And not with naked lust either, the way Bruce did before I fucked his brains out every time I needed it.

“You’re not. I just…miss my mom. I miss her more around this time of year. She loved Christmas and the snow, and I wish she could be here with us. And I wish I wasn’t so helpless and needy and that I had things I could give you too. I want to give you a happy Christmas, and I don’t even know if you celebrate. And I want to be useful to you so I’m not just a man who interrupted your life. I don’t have anything to give you except my ass. Sometimes my mental illness makes these feelings of worthlessness and sadness feel so much bigger, like they’re breaking me down. It lasts a little while; sometimes days, sometimes more.”