By KM Baysal
What a foolish way to die, she thinks, as she views her crumpled body from a distance. She knew better than to hike alone with only a few hours before sunset, but her broken heart convinced her there was healing to be found among the trees. What were they arguing about? It seems so long ago, so inconsequential.
She has something that she needs to do, but the words are just out of reach.
It’s a simple, sweet moment that keeps her here—the first time they kissed after he walked her to back to her dorm on a crisp, fall night. The warm, tentative touch of his lips against hers. Her heart beating so fast she was surprised to find herself still breathing when he pulled away.
Another, older, memory of reading Goodnight, Moon to her baby sister helps solidify her grasp. The wiggly weight of the toddler in her lap, the milky scent wafting off her as she kissed the gossamer-soft top of her head.
It’s curious that her leg doesn’t hurt resting at such a weird angle. She can’t feel the scrapes and bruises from the rocks that she is sure she crashed against as she fell. The panic that shot through her when she lost her footing is gone, replaced by a peaceful knowing that she can’t recall experiencing before.
She feels her mother now, braiding her wet hair on a hot summer day. She sits between her mother’s long, sweaty legs, head aching from the tugging of the comb through all the knots, the smell of chlorine from the pool tickling her nose and burning her eyes.
She knows she’s losing her grip on the world, the invisible tether that held her to her body has been cut like the umbilical cord so long ago.
There was so much to be thankful for. She sees it all now. Tiny happy moments accumulated to form a life. She wasted so much time focused on disappointments she missed all the beauty.
The memories come faster and faster on a never-ending loop. A whisper beyond her sight tells her it’s time to let it all go. She reaches for herself, but her hands remain empty, grabbing nothing but air and ether.
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KM Baysal lives, works, and writes in NYC. Her work has appeared in Does it Have Pockets, Folklore Review, and Inkfish Magazine. Her work was nominated for Best Small Fictions 2025. She can often be found haunting the New York Public Library or cozy coffee shops, tapping away on her keyboard. She is currently working on a fantasy novel. Follow her on Instagram @kmbaysal.