Chapter 1363

• Seasonal Affected Disorder
• The air smells clean and sharp like minerals, tastes like new snow eaten from a mitten. I can hear cars up on the road above the river, but we are alone down here in the alders and scrub. Wet ferns are brushing my fingertips. I touch them back, wanting. Always wanting. My breath is coming out in little puffs while he fingers my zipper and reaches down the back of my jeans to squeeze my ass. The breeze is cool, but the sun is warm on my face and heats a little triangle on my chest that is exposed when my boy pulls off my jacket and reaches up inside my silk thermal shirt to pinch a hard nipple. The moss is bright green. The leaves are gold, bronze and yellow. A little snow has dusted the distant hills. It could be autumn, or maybe it’s winter or early spring. I don’t care. It’s not raining. I am outside and the river is singing as it curls around the bend and froths and pools against basalt boulders.
• We were driving along scouting for wild mushrooms, singing along to the radio, drinking whiskey and eating pork rinds when he suddenly pulled over and said simply, “Here.” Of course, I knew exactly what he meant by this and followed him greedily into the ravine.