Lost in the Woods

I never wanted to be lost in the woods, but here I was.  Lost, alone, and starving.  Marty said he was going to be right back and for some reason, I had believed him.  I had been skeptical of the hike in the first place, but instead of listening to my instinct, here I was. 

I wondered – and half hoped – Marty left on purpose.  We had been friends for several years and for the last several weeks I had been asking myself if I wanted to take things farther.  As I trudged down what I hoped was the correct path, I felt my anger start to pick up.  Again.  My emotions had gone from one extreme to the other as I hoped and prayed I was on my way to being rescued. 

The longer I tramped down the trail the harder it was to suppress the urge to scream.  To yell at Marty for putting me in this situation.  When I finally – and surprising – made it to the correct parking lot only to find Marty lounging around on a folding chair, trying to catch a tan. 

My pent-up anger finally had a target.  The moment the first curse word came out of my mouth, Marty turned and ran.  It wasn’t until I saw my reflection that I understood why.