You set up your camp on the place where I died.
All that snow stomping, tent rustling, stakes hammering, cookpot rattling woke me. You woke me up.
You brought light. The sun set fast behind the cold mountains, so when you wanted to keep reading in your heated tent, you lit your fancy, vintage looking lantern.
I blew it out.
Cursing, you relit the lantern.
I blew it out again.
Eventually, you gave up. Lay in the dark, afraid. Burrowing into your sleeping bag, I cozied up next to you.
The darkness settled in to stay. For both of us.
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