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His Loss

When I stand in the middle of the cornfield at night, wind in my face, my hair roiling tendrils that brush my arms, I am everyone. It's like I crawl through a hatch in space and suddenly I can hear other people's thoughts.

This works especially well when I'm in an argument with somebody, because then I can see from their point of view... but mostly that can see the points that they're going to make and I can refute all of them.

On this night, the moon is especially clear. I stand in the field as I usually do, my mind open to everyone else's. Today, I hear something strange. Out of place in this rolling jumble of shallow, superficial, worthless thoughts.

"Don't let her know," This person is thinking, speaking, "She never has to find out."

Something in this mind-voice is familiar. The low timbre, the energy behind the words. My husband.

He goes on. "I love you, and if I could I would, darling, but you don't understand. Marina is.. well she's terrifying, honey. Honestly, I married her so that she wouldn't kill me." A laugh rumbles in my thoughts.

You really shouldn't have married me then, Jared. I don't guarantee anything.

The next day I have one less voice in my head.

Story by:

Elizabeth Cleveland

5 July 2016