Kibo: Slow Fall Today

He had time. Preposterous, impossible time. Time to see the ice feathers on the rock walls to his left, each crystal a miniature cathedral. Time to watch a lone lammergeier circle far above, its shadow skimming past him like a benediction. Time to remember his grandmother’s hands, kneading mochi on New Year’s Eve, the soft thump-thump of rice flour on the board. Time to regret not calling his brother last Tuesday.

And now you are inside it , the silence replied. kibo: slow fall

Below, the crater floor was closer now. He could see details: a scatter of dark rocks, a patch of orange lichen, the skeleton of an old expedition flagpole, its banner long since shredded to threads. He was still falling slowly, so slowly that if he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was floating upward instead. He had time

He didn’t know how to climb out. He didn’t know if the slow fall had been a miracle, a hallucination, or something the mountain did for fools who strayed onto the wrong ice shelf. He didn’t know if he would ever see another human being. Time to watch a lone lammergeier circle far

He fell in silence. No scream. The air was too sparse to carry it.