December. Frost cracking beneath my steps, my breathe before me, then gone. I loathe the feeling of hostile winds nipping at my fingers. I was cold, and weighted down with two oranges in my jacket.

“Do you want to go into town today? I’m so sick of staying inside.”  With the Chicago wind roaring, I would’ve said no to anyone else, but to her, I couldn’t. Stepping outside I immediately regretted it.
I scurried, heading down into the vicious storm. Billowing black clouds began to take form overhead as the wind continued to seize the dust off of the street. As I ventured on, I came to realize that nothing could possibly be worth this perilous journey, but there she was, standing on that rickety porch, pulling at her gloves, face bright with rogue. As she walked towards me, everything I knew dissolved into the now gentle blowing breeze. She was the epitome of grace, in essence, and in beauty.

My hand lingered on her shoulder as I led her down the street by a used car lot and a line of newly planted trees. Every minute or so I would watch her out of the corner of my eye as she rubbed her hands together for warmth, and then cover them over her mouth, letting the heat flow through her gloves. I would have given her my jacket, but I was too stubborn for my own selfish need to stay warm. She once told me we would be friends forever. But I always knew I could not accept that fate. And my desire for her grew every time her nose crinkled and she flashed her perfect white smile as she laughed. Her flushed cheeks were so bright against the gray of December. I have to stop staring at her, or she’ll think there’s something wrong with me, but I couldn’t help it. The first building we see past the grey suburbs was Westmont Pharmacy. We stood before it, and rushed inside when the wind picked up again. The bell on the door chimed loudly, bringing a saleslady to the counter. She fled down the aisle with her brown wavy locks flying off her shoulders as I slowly trudged behind her path, enjoying the lowly played song of “Hotel California” by Eagles in the background like white noise. When I caught up to her she was in a trance, standing in front of the mountain shelf of candies. They were tiered like bleachers.

I scuffed my foot on the ground and subtly cleared my throat, “So um, what do you want?” She pulled her gaze away from the sweet delights and there was lights in her eyes, a smile starting at the corners of her mouth. My avarice for that smile never ceased to exist, and it would remain that way forever. She picked up a ten cent Hershey’s milk chocolate bar. I fiddle with a single cold nickel in my jean pocket, and the feeling of the round plump fruits remained pressed against the sides of my stomach. We walked to the counter and the lady with a nametag called Rhonda repeats the price I already know. I took the nickel from my pocket, then an orange, and set them quietly on the counter, staring at them. I turned to look at her, and she looked back at me, not saying a word. I turned back and the lady’s eyes met mine. She gingerly picked them up off the counter and held them,
knowing very well what it was all about.

As we walk away, the lady Rhonda thanked us before we stepped out into the cold winter air, despising it once again. I grabbed her hand and we ran accompanied by the sound of a few cars hissing past us and the thick layers of fog that were hanging like coats between the trees. I let go of the sweet warmth from her hand after a few blocks, out of breath, like we were trying to outrun the winds. Her once neat brown hair now tangled under her hat, but she didn’t care. She pulled out her chocolate and unwrapped it as I peeled my orange. She offered me a bite, but I thanked her and declined, I wanted her to have it all. As I popped a slice into my mouth I watched her as she smiled once more while biting on the savory sweet. She was my unattainable mirage, the color of my life that I dream of but never tangible.

  I hated winter, and I abhorred its celebration for a frozen wasteland, but in the end, it was all worth it. All for her.