Snow Filled Lullabies

June 19, 2011
I stared up into the sky, blinking furiously as my eyelashes became embedded with flakes. I begin counting how quickly I was fluttering my eyes. Between each bat, I got a glimpse of the gray-painted twilight; it looked eerie compared to its normally crisp-blue self. With a deep breath stinging my lungs, I remembered how terribly I was craving a Marlboro. I slowly dragged myself up into a sitting position only to become eye-to-button with a tall, fat Frosty. My head throbbed, way too hung over for this s***. I pushed myself up into a standing position and took a step toward the road, falling quite hard once on the way down. “S***,” I muttered aloud and soon I was echoed with a chuckle. I picked my face out of nature’s misery and stared at a pair of black Converse. “Rough night?” The Converse asked.

“You have no idea,” I groaned as I was lifted to my feet. Apparently the shoes had come packaged with a man. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” He said, then catching a glimpse of my little black dress and heels, “How haven’t you gotten frost bite yet?” I slid the hair band off my wrist and into a brightly red-colored bun. I finally saw him: dark curly hair and blue eyes. He was attractive in that heartbreaker kind of way. After stumbling to the curb, I began to feel something of a twisted ankle.

“Not a clue,” I replied. It seemed only fair that I should play nice with this stranger. A few minutes later I managed to pull out cigarettes for Converse and I, then bummed a light from him. We smoked in silence, staring across the street. Overnight the land was covered with a thick layer of white fondue, I could make out the bumps and grooves of the land, but even so that didn’t matter. Everything seemed so much more beautiful with its untouched coating.

“So one might say that laying on the ground in basically ten-degree weather is pretty close to suicide attempt,” Converse said, letting his voice trail off for the implied question.

“I’m not looking to die,” I answered simply, hoping it would be enough to deter him from asking anymore questions; it wasn’t.

“Oh?” The tension between us hung thicker than the smoke we exhaled.

“I’m trying to live,” I filled in the silence in a much quieter way than I intended. I reached for another cigarette to ease the awkwardness. As he tried to do the same, our hands brushed. I looked up and realized that those deep blue eyes knew exactly how those four words had tasted. And in that moment, I forgot my emptiness.

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