Exhales of fog lighten the air. Summer dread begins. Climbing high, left hand smeared with blood. Climbing up. Right elbow smashed. Further, further. I look down. Nothing but mistakes.

I see myself walking up this path. My feet are bare. I feel the mud between my toes. As I continue walking I feel water drops on my skin. I don’t feel cold.

Running, leaping as the ground caves in, higher faster, I get a hand to connect, pulling myself up barely.

My hair starts feeling wet. The clouds above me begin to roar