The Longest Way Home by Brandon Barrows

​Mina stood on the bridge, looking down at the river. Mist swirled around the banks, making it seem like the shore was moving rather than the water. During the day, it was muddy brown, but now, it was blacker than the night. It reminded her of a curtain, pulled after the final act of a play. “All the world’s a stage,” she whispered. She loved the sound of that line when she was a little girl.

The whoop of a siren made her jump. She turned on her heel, pressing her back against the railing. The police cruiser’s passenger window rolled down. “Everything okay, ma’am?”

The officer’s face was blank as his eyes scanned her, trying to fit her into some familiar box.

A light drizzle started to fall as she said, “Yes, I’m fine, thanks,” and began walking towards the near side of the bridge.

“You should get home,” the officer called after her. “It’s a nasty night.” He rolled up the window but the cruiser didn’t start moving until Mina was safely off the bridge.

Home, Mina thought bitterly. “Home” was a town in Vermont called Sharon, not the three paint-peeling rooms where she slept.

At the next corner, Mina pulled the envelope from her coat pocket and dropped it into the mailbox. It was so old-fashioned it seemed almost foreign. Writing so much by hand was awkward and left her fingers cramped, but an email or a text was too impersonal for something like this. Cramps were nothing, though. She put up with a lot worse over the last four years—the drunken rages, the slaps that became beatings. Besides, she had to let Mom and Dad know about Ben, the grandson they’d never even met. When everything was said and done, he would end up with them. She walked on through the night.

The next cross-street was busy, even close to midnight. Cars and trucks and the occasional bus zoomed past, sending up dirty spray that splashed the sidewalk. The movement, the red and gold lights through the rain and mist, was mesmerizing. She stood a moment watching, wondering how many cars there were in the city. Unlike her, they were all going somewhere, every day, every hour.

“Miss,” a soft voice near her elbow said. “It isn’t safe to stand so close to the edge.”

Mina looked down and met the eyes of an elderly woman not even five feet tall. She reminded Mina of her great-grandmother, who was so tiny Mina called her “Little Grammy” when she was a child. A lump formed in her throat and her eyes burned.

“You’re right. Thank you, ma’am,” she said. At the light, the two of them crossed together.

The drugstore on the next block was still open. Mina blinked as she passed into the brightly lit store. “Can I help you?” a clerk called out.

Mina went to the counter and asked for the strongest sleeping pills they sold without a prescription. “And a bottle of your cheapest vodka, please.”

The man gave her a strange look for a moment, but only asked to see her ID. She presented it, paid, and put both box and bottle into her pocket.

“Have a nice night, ma’am,” the clerk told her, but got no answer.

Mina unlocked the faded green door of her building, and climbed creaking stairs to the third floor. Inside the apartment, she shed her coat, and went into the kitchen. Opening the box of pills, she popped each one from its foil pocket, making a pile on the scarred plastic table. With the base of the vodka bottle, she ground the pile into a fine powder. She cracked the seal on the bottle, took a deep swig, set it down. Scooping the white powder into her hand, she slowly poured it into the neck of the bottle, careful not to lose any, then recapped and shook it. The liquid was a little cloudy now, but it didn’t matter.

Mina moved through the living room quietly, careful not to disturb the little boy asleep on the sofa. In the bedroom, she shook the sleeping man awake. “Here, I got your bottle, just like you asked.”

© 2026 Brandon Barrows

About the author: 
Brandon Barrows is the author of more than a dozen books, his most recent Sinners Ride from 13 Days Publishing. He has also published over one hundred short stories for which he is a Mustang Award winner and a two-time Derringer Award nominee.

​Find more at http://www.brandonbarrowscomics.com