OUT ON MOOSE RUN RD. by Thomas Fallon For Leo Connellan.

The cold was fierce.

The trailer on Moose Run Road was cold.

The wind railed outside, rocking the trailer.

Old Eldon Smith wore a ragged jacket and ski cap inside the trailer.

No money now, he thought. We don’t need no money.

Old Mary Smith sat in the chair with her mouth open.

The old man covered her carefully with her favorite afghan.

She was dead. Mary was dead.

Mary had been dead for three days.

Eldon sat in the chair facing his wife.

The wind railed outside, rocking the trailer.

The old man looked at his wife, mouth open, covered with her afghan.

Mary’s beyond this, he thought. Beyond the cold. Beyond the fear.

He picked up the picture of the kids.

None of them live in Maine, he thought.

He placed the picture face down on the coffee table.

He looked at Mary, her mouth open, covered with her afghan.

Who needs money now, the old man thought.

The wind railed outside, rocking the trailer.

The old man picked up the 22 rifle and put the barrel in his mouth.

I’m comin’ Mary, he said aloud.

He pulled the trigger and blood splattered on the wall.

The wind railed outside, rocking the trailer.

Mary and Eldon Smith were dead.

Two snowshoers found the door open at the trailer on Moose Run Road.

Mary and Eldon Smith were dead.

Frozen.