The Guide



The phone buzzes in her coat pocket. I don't check it, but I am sure it is crying out on behalf of concerned friends or family that haven't heard from her; she seems like the type to call everyday at the same time. Maybe she had plans. The phone is a soul that has been lost before. It will likely buzz and buzz until it has drained itself dry. I can do nothing for it. I am not here for it.

She resists letting go of her body. I smile at this. Too often I have seen young people such as her let go of life so easily. I am not sure if this makes it more or less sad. I am not here to weigh these things. I am not here to judge. That is someone else's job. Eventually she has no choice but the yield. I let her spend the allotted time next to her body. It is a lot to take in and for her there is nothing can say to make it less painful. Acceptance can't be taught.

I lead her to the waiting room in this town. There she will stay until she can fully accept the situation. She will remember passing by it plenty of times but never entering, even if she had a need for its services. I leave her at the motel. Breakfast will be served in the morning.