Ben Stewart

Jared didn’t want to die, and he didn’t want to be alive.  

He stepped into the attached garage and assessed the overhead door mounts for their weight bearing ability; how embarrassing to hang yourself and pull the ceiling down. 

Jared climbed a stool, gripped the support, and let it take his weight. He kicked his legs; testing for when his body would revolt against being hanged by the neck. The support was sturdy; no worries of collapse and making an ass out himself.  

Something moved in his periphery. A small shape darted along the wall and up the stairs; disappearing into the house. 

A mouse.

“Oh no,” he breathed, stepping off the stool and rushing inside to see it disappear under the couch. 

Jared dropped, pressing his cheek to the floor. 

The front door shut, and Jared looked up. His husband stood there, heavy grocery bags turning his fingertips purple.

“Everything okay?” Ethan asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“There’s a mouse!” 

Ethan turned pale, taking a tentative step back. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

The mouse darted across the rug and squeezed into a gap in the kitchen cabinets. 

Ethan shrieked, shaky hands fumbling with the doorknob, eyes round and fixed on the cabinet. Tears spilling now, “Oh, Jared. Please! Get it out!”

Jared watched Ethan, tears welling, and realized ending his life wouldn’t end his pain; only transfer it to Ethan.

 Jared resolved to live for Ethan. For finding the mouse. 

“It’s okay.” Jared smiled, “I’ll take care of it.”