Short Stop: The Cleanest Air on Earth

L.C. Hill

He hands me a glass vial of the cleanest air on earth. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration says so. The data is right there on the label.

“There’s really air in here?” I look through the glass at nothing.

“Yes. Don’t open it,” he instructs me.

I guess there are some good things you just can’t see.

“I love it. Thank you.” I’m touched. I don’t know what to say, so I say, “I’ll only open it if I run out of air.”

I imagine a moment in which all the oxygen is gone. In the next moment, I will be gone, too, but I prolong my life for one last breath with the contents of that bottle. I decide the air will be so pure I’ll get a little high from it, and that’s not a bad way to go.

“I’m going to leave it right here.” The cleanest air on the planet now sits on my mantle.

“Okay,” he agrees.

I take a deep breath when we step outside. The air is refreshing, and my head swims a little. I like how it feels to walk next to him. The air isn’t so bad here.