Amelie Meinel
[In Response to More Alive Than Ever, by Leo Smith]
‘Do you ever think about dying?’
I turned toward her. ‘What?’
‘You know, dying.’ She turned to face me, her head propped in one hand, the other idly twirling a blade of grass. ‘Passing away. Reaching your expiry date. You ever think about it?’
I shook my head, my eyes tracing the sky above. ‘You ask the strangest questions.’
She poked my ribs, a glint in her eyes. ‘Well, do you?’
‘I don’t know.’ I rolled onto my side, mirroring her. ‘It seems only natural; everything dies eventually.’
She nodded, silent for a moment. Then her voice softened. ‘Do you think it hurts?’
I shrugged, looking toward the horizon where clouds bled into one another. ‘I think it depends.’
‘On what?’
‘How you die.’
‘Oh?’ Her brow furrowed, little ridges forming on her forehead. I looked away. My gaze settled on her hand, still tugging at the grass. How had I never noticed the fragility of her fingers, as though they carried a softness the world could not touch?
‘Think about it,’ I said. ‘Dying in your sleep would be a lot less painful than drowning, or being stabbed.’
She plucked a flower and raised it to her nose. Her features softened in the sunlight, golden strands of hair catching its warmth. ‘I’ve always heard that drowning is a peaceful way to die.’
I lay back again, letting the grass cushion me, and stared at the sky. ‘Maybe. But we’re talking about physical pain, not peace.’
For a while she was silent, sinking into the earth. ‘You ever think about how you want to die?’
I shrugged, the answer feeling heavy and trivial all at once. ‘I don’t see why it matters. It’s not like I can choose how it happens.’
She hummed softly, weighing possibilities that no one else would dare. ‘I’d want to fall from the top of a tree.’
‘Sounds painful.’
‘I think it would be peaceful.’ Sitting up, she lifted her head, eyes closed as if she could touch the clouds themselves. ‘The feeling of falling. Weightless. Looking up at the sky as you go. And it would be instant. No time to feel anything at all.’
I stretched out, hands laced behind my head. ‘That’s only if the tree is tall enough. If it’s not, you’d end up lying on the ground, broken, drowning in your blood, wishing you were dead.’
She stuck her tongue out. ‘Well then, I’ll just make sure I pick a really tall tree.’
I sat up and faced her, our knees nearly touching. ‘I think I’d want to be locked in a room with no air.’
She grimaced, but her eyes still twinkled. ‘Sounds scary.’
I shook my head. ‘Sounds simple. Slowly growing tired, then falling asleep. Never waking up. If I got to choose, that’s how I’d want to go.’
‘Who says you can’t?’ she murmured, edging closer, knees warm against mine.
‘Can’t what?’
‘Choose.’
A pause. I met her eyes, so certain, so unwavering. A soft breeze brushed a strand of hair across her face, and I fought the urge to tuck it back.
‘I don’t like where this conversation is going,’ I said, my voice low.
She flinched and pulled away, warmth replaced by cold distance. ‘You’re right, sorry. I can’t help it sometimes.’
‘That’s okay,’ I told her, but she refused to meet my eyes.
‘It’s not that I want to die,’ she said, eyes downcast, a faint blush blooming across her cheeks. ‘I just find it interesting that if we wanted, we could choose when and how it happens. I don’t actually want to die. Promise.’
‘I believe you,’ I said softly.
We lay back in silence, the world blurring into the sway of the grass. The wind teased our skin. The clouds rolled like lazy sheep across the sky. A cold drop landed on my forehead, and I closed my eyes.
‘We should probably go back home,’ I murmured, turning to nudge her. But she wasn’t there. Not a flicker, not a shadow. Just the empty space beside me, and memories that shimmered and faded like sunlight on water.
The clouds pressed dark above me, the tree looming impossibly tall as the wind roared past me, tugging at my clothes. For a moment, I was weightless, suspended between memory and desire, fear and peace.
I closed my eyes.
‘You were right,’ I whispered. ‘This is peaceful.’