Photo by Mark Potterton on Unsplash

We stood close together, dressed in our heavy coats and pants atop Haleakalā, waiting for the sunrise. In the frigid air, the snot ran from my nose — a normal reaction, I was told. I incessantly wiped, using the tissues I’d shoved in my pocket, but my tour driver playfully laughed with me, asking, “It just keeps goin’, eh?” When I sheepishly looked up at him, he said, “No worries. It’s a temporary cold you have. You’ll be over it at the bottom.”

He’d picked me up from my hotel in the middle of the night, his last pickup. When…

Christine M. Estel

Christine M. Estel lives and writes in the Philadelphia area.

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