When the cave began to narrow, my shoe pushed the edge of something cylindrical. It began to roll and stopped after about seven inches, making a small noise. Directing my flashlight downwards before me, I saw some sort of tin, or can. I picked it up and examined the printing, finding it to be an empty container that once held coffee. Holding it under my nose, the can still smelled of the coffee grounds, robust and fresh. I felt slightly more awake at simply the scent, but I had long ago had my last cup of coffee and I was no longer starting my mornings with any brew.
At what time had someone from the modern world brought coffee so far into the depths of this cave? At what time had I even gone so far? Turning around, there was no light. I had moved no more than twenty, thirty feet into the cave, or so I had thought. Continuing forward, and placing the can down, I felt the ground slope beneath my feet and soon I was heading down at an angle, deeper into the blackness, ever oppressive. By the time my feet had felt level my breath was tight. As if being choked, I struggled for few seconds to gather a deep breath, and then all was fine. I could feel my heart pounding in my head and I felt momentarily disoriented. My flashlight illuminated the one way to go, and I moved in that direction swiftly.
In a widening of the stone tunnel, my damp feet arrived at two unfurled bedrolls with a dark oil lamp between them and some sort of bound book. Had some campers, hunters, once spent the night here? Did they read by the oil lamp? I reached down and turned the knob in a hope to ignite the burner and throw a warm, golden light upon the scene from within the chimney. No oil was present in the lamp and this cave did not like the light, it seemed. Perhaps two lovers had spent the night here, on separate rolls but entwined in each other’s arms and warmed by the meager lamp.
When I picked up the text from between the two bedrolls I felt the dampness, the leather cover, light in color with a veined pattern. Was it a journal of one of the lovers in my mind? Did these bedrolls taunt me? Did they remind me of what I no longer had? They sat there upon a cold and damp stone floor like memories I kept in the darkest reaches of my heart. I did not drink coffee anymore. I did not have someone for my heart. There was an incompleteness. The cave was reminding me with a sharp image of what I no longer had. No matter how many miles it seemed I had traveled away, there was nothing here. No, there was no Ruth.
I was at fault for ruining things I couldn’t blame the darkness for.