“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, not looking at him.
That Tuesday, Leo walked the trail alone in the pre-dawn dark, kicking stones. He wasn’t looking for hope anymore. He was looking for a place to put his grief. Jacobs Ladder
Leo stepped off the top rung into the white. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said,
Leo tried to hug her. His arms passed through her like smoke through a screen door. “You’re not supposed to be here
“I know,” she said. “I felt every rung.”
The ladder never reappeared. But sometimes, on nights when Leo can’t sleep, he’ll hear a faint creak above his bed—like a footstep on a wooden rung that isn’t there.