The man was lying dead in the field. I go ahead and stand very still near him. I looked closely if his chest is moving up and down. Nada.
Scared, I nudge his dress shoes with my feet. No response. My pulse quickens. I slowly move toward him and lean down to check his pulse on his check. He is irrevocably dead. The few seconds my fingers was in contact with his skin, it was ice cold. I look down once again with a sharp exhale, my hands shaking. What do I do now? This is in the middle of nowhere. There's no one I can call for help. Do I just leave him behind? Maybe tell someone once I reach the village?
He is wearing a long brown overcoat, the coat is slightly dirty where it is touching the ground. His hair is matted to his forehead, probably from sweat. Did he run here?
I look around, the tall grasses bending in the wind ever so slightly. There's no sign of struggle. No destroyed grass, no trampled ground. A natural death perhaps. I turn around, getting ready to leave. I walk off. Or so I thought.
I didn't leave.
The night falls, I am sitting down besides the man's body since then. The man sits up and stares at me. I don't look despite feeling his gaze on me. He parts his lips saying something unintelligible, as time goes by it becomes clear.
| "You are lonelier than my corpse.
"
You finally look at the man. He has no apparent expression on his face, tone dry as he repeats the same line. After a while, he stops and stares at me. I turn my face away from him.
Who was I going to tell about his death anyways? My loneliness has consumed everything around me. I have nothing.
I stand up, brushing off dirt and grass from sitting down and walk away from there. The sun has risen. The fog beads on the grasses are shining. Isn't this scene supposed to make me grateful for being alive?
I turn around one more time. He is lying down. He is dead.
