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April 2, 2019
Taos, New Mexico
The morning was crisp and clear. Melting snow filled in the spaces around the trees and left the trail along the chalet’s ski runs muddy. Hiram Beecher slipped on a wet slab of rock, banging his shoulder against a piñon pine. He righted himself and continued hiking upwards, barely noticing the tear in his jacket. Overhead the ski lift swayed in the morning breeze. It would have been easier to use the lift but the walk was therapeutic. Testing my knee, he told himself. To his surprise he felt remarkably pain-free, at least physically. His heart, on the other hand, felt ripped in two.
Myriam had left that morning, her face set in a grimace of pain, frustration, and anger. All of it directed at him. He accepted it as the price he had to pay for keeping se
