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Not bonuses.

Just moments of my life—mine. And added up, they matter. In the end? Those tiny moments might be the only thing that does matter.

A twig snaps somewhere deeper in the woods.

I freeze.

Slowly, I straighten.

Another rustle.

Leaves shifting.

Branches brushing together.

Something is definitely moving out there.

“Oh.”

I swallow.

“It's fine.”

Probably.

I mean, this is the woods.

Things live in woods.

That's kind of the whole point. Right?

I glance toward the darker stretch of trees.

Nothing.

Just shadows.

“It's probably a deer.”

Or a rabbit.

Or something bigger. With sharper teeth.

Gulp.

Please let it be a rabbit.

I start walking again.

Just a little faster.

Not running.

Running feels like admitting I'm scared.

And I'm absolutely not scared.

Nope.


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