Kill Me After

Once he saw a picture of some snow-covered monkeys from Japan, their hair sticking out like pincushions, snow all over their heads and brows like powdered sugar. That’s what she looks like, just standing beside the road, motionless. Ignoring him, the truck, everything.
He gets out, ducks his head against the snow and sleet hitting his face. He runs over to her and yells over the idling diesel: “Are you all right?”
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him. Stares across the road at the other side. Catatonic.
Shivering, he yells again. “Are you OK? Do you need help?”
No response.
It’s damn cold out here. Dan doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there, but if it’s more than a few minutes, she’s already hypothermic. “Come with me,” he yells. “I’ll put you in the truck.”
Without turning her head or looking at him, she speaks.
“Kill me.”