The greyest mountains were far away. Tall, imposing structures of nature. And I would have liked to journey there—discover what kind of animals the mountain range held. What color water flowed there? Was the sun hotter while standing on the mountain's peak?
I wished I could have taken someone to the very top of the nearest mountain to experience the view with them, while the wind feathered through their hair and the sky nearly touched them, touched us. I wanted to see the way their eyes sparkled that close to the sun.
I'd always had someone to experience life with, but now that my left and right sides were barren, I couldn't bear reaching the top of those mountains. Since the death of my brother, I had developed a phobia of being alone.
Who knew such a potent fear could manifest in reality?
