Every year during christmas we go to get a tree up in the mountains. No one seemed too enthusiastic about going this year though.
We all went anyway. I watched everyone bundle up and then get into the car and drive to the mountains. I went with them. This year, as we hiked up through the deep snow, I wasn't cold or out of breath even up on the steeper parts of the hills.
"How about this one?" Carson asked.
"That's a good one," dad said, "but it's a little bit skinny."
Everyone froze for a moment when he said that and I knew what was going through their heads. "Skinny is good for people," I had said every year. "Not for christmas trees." I had always wished I was skinnier.
Then they all walked away from the tree and no one said anything.
YOU ARE READING
After Suicide
Short StoryWaking up after dying is the strangest feeling. I knew I had succeeded, the overdose was enough and no one was home to stop me or to realize what I had done until it was too late. But this morning, I opened my eyes, right before my alarm went off...
