I look around at the dark, frozen lake that surrounds me. Miles, it seems, in all directions. I look up to the moon, pleading with it.

Why am I here?

The moon answers, “To be alone.”

If I cannot be with him, I will be alone with my thoughts and the moon. The wind seems to whistle a sad song. It makes me think of him.

All alone, no one and nothing to hear, I sink to my knees and wail. My lungs vibrate, and I gasp for air. Hot tears stream down my rosy cheeks. Their heat splits the cold that engulfs my sharpened features. My façade is cracked open, and all that is left is my sorrow.

I knew from the start- his hand around my shoulder, my stubble like grass brushing across his chin- that there was nothing to be done. I was headed for a fall the moment I became his. And he, mine.

And now, here we are at the reckoning. The apocalypse. The end of my known world. Without him, I am emptied. I will remain so until the day we can be together.

But not here. Our love cannot grow here, where every sprout is stamped out by the stares and whispers. A love like ours will die a thousand times, until those that surround us give us an opportunity to survive.

Alone. Just the moon and my sobs. My voice like a blade hacking at the silence in the freezing night air. Alone, with nothing but our memories to keep me warm.