It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t just bury themselves.

My feet are cold, but my toes are colder, and that is just too fucking much. It was the straw that broke my figurative back. I dropped to my knees, releasing my grip on the carcass behind me. I let out an exasperated yelp that I didn’t realize I’d actually done until several moments later when the echo faded and I was left with my silence.

I made it this far, and was obviously committed to getting rid of this body, but I wanted so badly to turn tail and hoof it back to the cabin, fix a drink, and kick my now nearly numb feet up next to the fire. I think that my biggest regret not buying better shoes. These hiking boots were far from the top of the line and are clearly not water proof, and are seemingly not water resistant either.

As I begin to stand and collect myself, I hear a noise behind me. A black streak moves westward across the clearing and a tuft of snow falls from a branch to the ground some 40 feet below, landing silently. The crow caws once more and is swiftly out of sight.

Once the bird has sufficiently distracted me, my focus returns to the matter at hand. Well, more-so the matter at my feet. I lean over and grab the ankles of my one night stand, Derek, and continue tugging he and the sled up the hill.

As I climb, I think about the comment he made while we were in bed. “You’re so strong and muscular, it’s pretty hot” he marveled, his hands working their way over my torso. My mostly unimpressed response followed: “Thats 20 years of growing up on a farm in the north with no brothers”. Now I laughed at myself, I surely didn’t look very strong after hours of towing and sweating.

I fixed my gaze on the old cemetery near the rock wall next to the hill many of my ancestors were laid to rest in, and pressed on. A litte over an hour later I arrived with my package in tow, and collapsed on a bench my great something or other had probably built by hand and had miraculously survived years of weathering.

For the first time during the hike, I pulled my phone out of my bag. I sometimes had signal here since it was so high up, if it was a relatively clear day. I opened the messages app and texted my younger sister, Jeanie.

“He wasn’t even good in bed”

She sent back a laughing face emoji and an “I love you sis”. I freed the shovel from the sled, and began digging.