Landmines.

I’d decided to open my bedroom windows. Even though it was winter, the morning was unusually warm, and I wanted to soak up some of the sun.
The dust glinting in the light streaming through the window reminded me I needed to clean more often.

Though my house was far from the town center, it sat on higher ground, so from my window, I could catch a glimpse of that 'scenery.'

Nothing out of the ordinary.
Nothing that caught my eye.

“Come in already, spying from the doorway is creepy,” I said without turning around, still leaning against the window frame. I knew she was behind the door.

“Planning something?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she barely peeked around the doorframe. I could feel her shooting lazers with her gaze.

“Not this time, just looking at the town.”
“Hmm… really?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t jump from here. It’d be pointless.”

“Did you do your calculations?”

“I don’t need to. We’re on the first floor. I’m not an idiot.”

She didn’t reply, but I caught that resigned sigh she let out.
Did she want a normal conversation? If any of our talks could even be called that.


“Ugh… fine. The window’s about five meters up. It’d take me less than a second to hit the grass. At most, I’d break my legs.”

“Fall velocity?”

“Since when do you care about that stuff?” I asked, scratching the back of my neck—a tic I’d had for a while.

“Just tell me,” she said, stepping closer and flopping into my desk chair like a tossed stuffed toy.

“9.4 meters per second, about 33.8 kilometers per hour… Happy?”

“…I still don’t know how to tell if I am…” she answered, her tone carrying a different weight. She seemed about to say more when her eyes locked onto a small stack of papers on my desk. “Huh? What’s this? Your will? I doubt you’ve got anyone to leave anything to,” she added, inspecting one of the sheets.

Almost instinctively, I slapped my palm down on the stack, the wood of the desk echoed like I’d struck it. I didn’t say anything, but it was probably obvious I didn’t want her reading it. Too late, though.

“No way…” She covered her mouth, stifling a laugh that was itching to escape.

“Give it back.”

“Hell no! Now I have to read it,” she said, springing up from the chair and waving the paper in the air. “This is a résumé! Though… a really bad one, to be honest.”

“It’s what I’ve got for now. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

“Suicidal types don’t usually job-hunt.”

“You’re right, but it’d be part-time. After all, my grandma’s money won’t last forever, and as long as I’m alive, I’ve gotta eat. Starving to death isn’t my preferred way to go.”

“So you’re putting it off? You tired of it?”

Tired? Good question. But tired of trying to die, or trying to live? That was the real question.
I didn’t answer, just pointed at the calendar on the wall. A while back, I’d marked my own deadline.
Somehow, that deadline felt like it had lost some of its weight.

“How very teenager of you…” She set the paper back on the desk. Her focus shifted to the calendar, though there wasn’t much to see—just a single day marked. “You look like a kid waiting for his birthday.”

“Technically, every birthday brings you one year closer to death,” I said, leaning my face toward hers for a split second before stepping back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, spinning around almost instantly.

“Just a joke, nothing deeper.”I grabbed the small stack of papers and shoved them into my backpack.
I carried it everywhere, even though it didn’t hold anything important. It helped trick my brain—the weight of the bag kept me from dwelling on the weight in my mind.

I opened the door and headed downstairs. The wood was pretty old; maybe the house could use some repairs, I thought, though I quickly pushed that idea out of my head.

“I’m coming with you!”

“Not in a million years.”

“Why not?” she asked, hurrying down the stairs.

“Because you can’t keep quiet, and I’m not talking to you in the street.”

“I promise I won’t say a word the whole way.”

“You can’t talk when there’s people around either.”

“Deal.”

No, I didn’t believe her.
I knew she was lying. She’d been chattier than usual since yesterday.
Maybe she was trying to fit into this forced normalcy. Maybe she was genuinely curious.
Truth is, I didn’t know the answer, and she probably didn’t either.

The walk to the town center wasn’t long, but it felt like it was miles away. I’ll admit, I wanted to turn back home plenty of times. I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was worth it. Sure, I needed the money, but my grandma’s savings would last until “my deadline.”

Part of me couldn’t help thinking that, maybe unconsciously, I was trying to reinforce this artificial normalcy I had.
The neighborhoods were usually empty in the mornings—people were already at work, students at school, and the narrow streets saw almost no traffic.
That constant silence, broken only by her footsteps, was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. Strange, considering that even though it overwhelmed me, part of me always enjoyed the absence of noise.
But today didn’t seem to be one of those days.

“Say something if you want. There’s no one around.”

“…”

“You listening? I said you can talk if you want,” I repeated, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She, on the other hand, was pretending not to see me, her eyes fixed on the trees.

“I was keeping the deal.”

“Let’s put the deal on hold for now, until we get to the center.”

“Was that the tree you tried to hang yourself from?”

“Nice conversation starter…” I muttered, almost to myself. My hand instinctively brushed the mark on my neck. “Yeah, in town they call it the crooked tree.”

“Pretty popular with your crowd, huh? Hence the name.”

“My crowd?”

“Suicidal types.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, not giving it much weight. “That’s how you see me, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, suicidal kid. That’s what you’ve called me from the start. You never asked my name, though I guess that’s because you already know it.”

“Actually, no… I’m not omniscient. I just don’t care,” she said casually, walking behind me.

“I don’t blame you. If I spent thousands of years dealing with people about to off themselves, I wouldn’t care about their names either.”

“It’s true I’ve been with people like you for a long time, but I remember every single one of their names. You all forget the dead after a few decades. Someone’s gotta keep track that, even if they chose another path, they were once in this world.”

“I see…”

Thousands of years.
Thousands of people.
Thousands of ways to end it all.
Even a supernatural being would feel overwhelmed by that. Probably not focusing on it made her job easier.

“I’m waiting for your question.”

“What question?”

“You know, why don’t I know your name?”

“It’s not important, I guess.”

“…I don’t need to know it… if I’m stuck to you all day.”

As I stopped, she stopped just a few steps behind me.“Okay… now explain that.”

“Huh? No, nothing to explain, nothing, nothing,” she said, waving her hands.

“What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing, just forget it. Let’s keep walking, you’re gonna waste the day standing here. Though honestly, it’d be a miracle if anyone hires you.” she said, patting my shoulder.

“You know, if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose your resignation letter…”

“Right, right, I know you’re not gonna kill yourself, idiot…” Her voice trailed off at the end, the pats turning into a grip on my shoulder. “I know… you’re not gonna kill yourself…” she repeated, looking into my eyes but not really seeing me—her gaze was lost.

Ever see those World War II movies where a soldier’s walking and hears that click after stepping on a mine?
We’d both said too much.
We’d both stepped on a mine.

The question now was who’d lift their foot first.