SHORT STORY

            It was hot and it's not like I wanted to follow her, it was just a "same place, same time" kinda coincidence. And there weren't any trails but, I mean, I know those woods very well and I wanted to make sure that she didn't get herself lost. But I didn't just wanna approach her either, you know? Can you imagine? A stranger coming up to you in the middle of nowhere asking if you know where you're going? She'd have been terrified. I didn't wanna be terrifying. I didn't want to scare her. Anyways, it was hot that afternoon. It was really fucking hot. The second I stepped out the door – around four – I thought maybe I'd regret it, but I went anyways. I, like almost all the other days I went for my walk in the woods, took Plymouth up to a left on Grand, then took Grand all the way up to the sign at the entrance. Then I just kept walking, empty roads behind me, empty forest in front.

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            Well I saw her, probably 'bout thirty minutes, maybe two miles, in – I walk fast – and like I said, I know the area but I didn't think anybody else did. And Jesus, she looked so much like Jean, my late wife, that I guess I actually fainted. That's how I must've got this cut near my eye and all these little nicks on my arms – guess I took quite a fall.

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            I almost coulda sworn it was her. But after I woke up I realized it couldn't have been. I remembered that, although I wasn't that close to see, it looked like the girl had bangs and Jean had never had bangs. She hated the idea of 'em sticking to her forehead when it was hot. I wondered if the girl hated it too since it was so hot. That's another reason I likely fainted, 'cause it was so hot out that day. Shoulda been drinking more water. Now that I think about it, I don't think Jean's doppelganger had any water with her at all – shoulda offered her some but I was too worried about scaring her off.

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            It was only after I caught up to the girl that I realized just how much younger she looked. So close to the way Jean did in high school – the wide hips, olive skin, straight, deep brown hair about a third of the way down her back. The kind of hair that's so dark you'd have to see it in the light to know it was actually brown at all. She was also an inch or so taller than most her age, even in those black Vans high-tops she always used to wear. The girl wore 'em too.

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            How was I honestly supposed to think it was anyone but Jean? Her skin glistened with sweat, the same way it did when she'd come out of the shower – I'd never have thought to describe a tan as delicious until I'd laid eyes on her. And Jesus her freckles – those freckles. You'd think olive skin and freckles wouldn’t work – she certainly didn't, she hated them – but I loved them. I loved Jean. And there she was on my damn walk, like she'd been waiting for me this whole time. She'd died and simply decided to wait for me in the forest, my Jean.

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            I had glanced around to see if she looked miserable with her bangs, but she was gone. I didn't know how long I'd been unconscious for so I brushed the dirt off my watch and it hadn't been a horribly long time, just a couple of minutes. I needed to know if the girl was real, if I'd actually seen my Jean with bangs, so I kept going in the direction that she'd been headed. I caught up to her pretty quickly too. Like I said, I walk fast. Of course I kept my distance 'cause I didn't want to scare her – I was just a stranger in the woods after all and I imagine seeing her had caused me enough surprise for the both of us.

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            She looked so much like Jean. I never thought I'd see her alive again but there she was. She was so beautiful. Even more than I remembered because Jean usually wasn't the prettiest around – she had envied a lot of people in our life for that. You could think the world of Jean and she'd still be down on herself. I just wanted to be able to see her again, just for a little while. And she was beautiful, so I followed her. I remember she was wearing faded jeans and a black t-shirt and I thought she must be dying in the heat. That was on the news too I think, the weather and her clothing. I wondered a lot about why she was there, if she was going to meet anybody, and why the hell she was wearing jeans in that kinda weather. I mean, who wears jeans in August? In the middle of summer? You ought to be crazy to do that. Hmph, maybe it was a sign. Maybe Jean was wearing jeans, asking me to follow her. Asking me with those hips.

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            Anyways, the girl also had a little green sweater thing – the one I gave to the officers – tied around her waist. That wasn't on the news of course. They hadn't found her with it, that was just me. It fell off her waist while she was walking but I found it odd 'cause she didn't seem to care at all. She certainly glanced at it on the ground after it fell, but she just kept walking. I remember that because I thought it was strange. I mean, it wouldn't have been that much of an inconvenience to stop and grab it right? There wasn't any harm done – some dirt and leaves but nothing to warrant leaving it behind I would think. It took me literally two seconds and I didn't even have to stop walking – thought I'd leave it back at that sign near the entrance. There's only one way out of that forest anyways, everyone knows that. One way in and out, back to the main road unless you want to walk 52 miles to reach the acres of farm land on the Northeast side. I figured she'd pass it on her way out. We'd been walking for a long time – at that point we must've been at least three and a half miles into the woods and I was starting to run out of water. I knew of a good place to fill up, but it was a water tank at least a half mile back. And I needed to make sure that Jean was safe. I wanted to know where she was going. I trusted her to lead me to where I needed to be.

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            An hour and two miles later, I gave up. The girl showed no signs of stopping and the trees in that forest are tightly packed. I'd been with her, keeping my distance, for almost two hours and I walked fast. I could've caught up to her even if I'd wanted to – I'm sure of that – but the red cedars hid her ever so often and she just kept going. I couldn't do that – I had a life back in town, a life back in the world of Plymouth and Grand. I thought she did too – that at some point she'd go home, but she never turned back. Not even for the sweater. Maybe her life existed in the world of dry moss and cedar trees.

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            I don't know why I kept the sweater. I always meant to put it back but when I got to the sign, something told me that she wouldn't be coming back that way, that she wouldn't need it anymore wherever she was going, my Jean. So when I heard on the news a week later that her body had been found and it looked like she'd been stripped and strangled to death, I didn't feel right having it. That's why I brought it in; I figured it was evidence or somethin' and I wanted to try and help the investigation. I feel wrong having kept it at all; it wasn't mine to begin with. I wonder, if maybe I'd left it for her or never picked it up in the first place, if she'd be okay now. If she would've walked out of those woods exactly the way she had walked in, save for some dehydration and a dirty sweater.

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            The thing that I can't wrap my head around is that somebody must have done it, right? Because it's physically impossible for a person to strangle themselves – I looked it up, they'd just faint, stop strangling themselves, and regain consciousness. So I don't understand who did it. Nobody visits those woods. Nobody walks in them. And nobody lives in them – at least not since Jean died, I would know. I walk for hours and hours in complete solitude and see no one, hear nothing. Because nobody could've found her in those woods except for me. And nobody knows those woods better than I do.