P'abajo

We continue with the publication of the micro-stories of the third edition of the competition: High Altitude Storieswe let you enjoy with "P'abajo"by Jordi Soler.

P'abajo

-by Jordi Soler-

It was the last few metres and I could already see the summit behind me. All we had left to do was to get over the last ledge, perhaps the most difficult of that modest ascent that we had made a thousand times before. I turned around. Juanito was huffing and puffing, trying to put his boot on a rock ledge. I looked at him wondering if stretching out my arm to help him might be considered an insult. I saw his white beard and thinning hair. I thought if I could see myself, I would be old too. Almost like him. Life had been thrown at us climbing mountains.

At the sight of his suffering I gave him a cry:

-Juanito, down," I said.

-We're nowhere near the summit," he gasped.

I dexterously picked up the rope and insisted: down.

A few hours later we were laughing over a few beers in the refuge.

-I won't be able to follow you," he said.

-We'll look for lower mountains. Or what do I know...