In high school, I dated a girl I didn’t really like because she was pretty. Once I took her out in the woods at night in an old car. We smoked a joint and then there was nothing else to do. Every time I leaned over to kiss her, however, the entire woods turned red. I thought it meant I was going to hell, so I took her home. I parked in my driveway and the red brake light illuminated the maple tree by my house. Although I realized what had happened, I was so spooked. I never tried again.
Kirby Olson’s writing has appeared in many journals and in a novel entitled Temping (Black Heron Books). He teaches philosophy at SUNY-Delhi.