It’s about to make us stink right there frozen as we are on a path as wide as a car, then turning away because we are less a threat than it imagined. We’re just an interruption. Then running away. I never saw one run away before like a wave that never breaks. I doubt I would have seen it had you not been there. A skunk running away almost casually like it might never have to look back. Like you a little. Even like me a little. Hey us. Like it might never be caught up with or stopped. It’s only us, off to our side. It was running through the hemlocks I almost forgot. It was the hemlocks that made the path possible. Some had to come down. For you and me. While the skunk ran through the understory that wasn’t much of a story at all because this is a story about hemlocks as well as a skunk. Hemlocks, dark themselves, make the darkest shadows of all trees. What sunlight there is makes even the hemlock see-through, true. I am forgetting about you. You will, too. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I mean that we one day won’t be in the way. A little pine duff, a little litter. Though that is so even now. We like talking about the skunk. It is as if we are still there, ourselves, making it huff away like we would if we were skunks.