Photo credit: wallpoper.com

He was riding an avalanche. The rush was back. He had missed this feeling of spinning into the unknown. His spine was tingling. His hands twitching. Grabbing at her backside, he held on. The high had gotten higher.

When he released himself from her, she wrapped herself in a sheet and poured two shots of tequila. The burn in his throat was soothing.

“I am so glad that your truck didn’t start,” she said with a devilish grin.

They had met on the last run of the day, the only two left on the slopes. He had been lost in a mindless reverie when she suddenly appeared  at his side. They raced to the bottom together, both breathing heavily when they were done.

“Time for last call,” she said, leaving her skis in the lodge’s lobby. Well, a little night-cap wouldn’t hurt before he headed back.

The whiskey warmed them as they bantered comfortably at the bar. They left for the parking lot at closing time. Throwing his skis  in the bed of the truck, he hopped in quickly. It would be a long drive home and he would need to stop for gas and coffee. As he turned the key in the ignition, he was greeted with silence.

“Want me to jump you?”, she asked. Again, she seemed to appear out of nowhere. When that didn’t work, he concluded that it was the starter.

“You’ll never get a tow at this time. And the only repair shop in town is closed. I can call my guy in the morning and have him take care of it,” she said with a wink. “Meet me in my car.”

He placed a call his wife and his boss. No need to lie this time.

They rode in silence through icy mountainous and narrow roads. The night was deeply black.  There, at the end of a long driveway, stood a large cabin. He had arrived at a dark forested limbo and his body soared.

When his boots hit the snow, he knew there would be no turning back.