The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F_ck

“Um. I saw you sitting on the edge over there,” he says.
His accent is Australian. The word “there” rolls out of his
mouth awkwardly. He points toward Antarctica.
“Yeah. The view is gorgeous, isn’t it?” I am smiling. He is
not. He has a serious look on his face.
I brush my hands off on my shorts, my body still buzzing
from my surrender. There’s an awkward silence.
The Aussie stands for a moment, perplexed, still looking
at me, clearly thinking of what to say next. After a moment,
he carefully pieces the words together.
“Is everything okay? How are you feeling?”
I pause for a moment, still smiling. “Alive. Very alive.”
His skepticism breaks and reveals a smile in its place. He
gives a slight nod and heads down the trail. I stand above,
taking in the view, waiting for my friends to arrive on the
peak.