That Day In Winter: Part 1

Hello once again, and this time I’ll be taking a short break (Short? Lets see…) from my Dark Souls Series (If you haven’t go ahead and maybe take a peak?) to work on this mini series. So yeah that’s how things are going in this spectrum. You know, I’ve always hated myself because I’ve always been so indecisive about this stuff. You know I’ve always picked up a series I wanted to do then I drop it because of everything else, then I don’t pick it up then I start a new one and it just keeps going on and on. I’ve got a mountain of things just piling up and it really bugs me because I really want to do everything I have in mind, but I just can’t you know? It’s really a thing with time and managing. I guess I’m just a little naive when it comes to these things, aren’t we all sometimes? But anyway, that became sentimental really fast, here you go, “That Day In Winter: Part 1” (For a lack of better separation name, and also this is going to be a bit of an episodic mini series.)

“Hey, have I ever told you why I loved winter?”

The man’s voice resounded within the room, as his breath dampened the clear window. Outside, he could see blankets of white, while tiny droplets of snow were falling from the sky. The trees were covered in snow, and the weight of it made some branches droop low. As he sat at the window, with his arms outstretched to his knees, he took a deep breath and let it out, watching as his breath hit the window and disappear. Watching, as the outside white, remained a still image.

“Why you love winter?” The woman beside him spoke up in a curious manner. Her dark silky hair hung low behind her, well kept. Her eyes were wide and green, like emeralds in the sun, they drew him in. Her lips were a velvet red, and her expression was solemn as she slumped her head over her knees. She was wearing bed attire, as per the norm when waking up. In fact, the man had only just woken up a few minutes ago himself, and asked the question when noticing her entry.

The man looked up, with his hand touching the cold window, like he wanted to reach out towards the outside.

“Yeah. There are a couple of reasons.”

“Oh?” The woman perked up. Her mouth was small, and curled up when she was interested.

“Well, first of all, I like it better than summer.”

“What does that tell me?” The man laughed.

“I mean, If I had the choice to be hot or cold, I would choose cold.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t you ever get that feeling in summer when you’re sweating because of the heat, and all that sweat makes your shirt stick to you? That’s the worst feeling.”

“You sound just like a kid.” The woman giggled and looked closely at the man, her eyes were fixated.

“But it’s the truth. I would rather be bundled up and stay warm then let loose and stay cool. I mean, staying warm is just….. there’s a certain feeling to it you know. It makes you…. fuzzy.”

“You really are a kid.” The woman laughed.

“Hey!”

“But I agree.”

“As for my second reason,” The woman looked up, as if she just remembered that the point of the conversation were to list off the reasons why the man preferred winter.

“The fact that everything sparkles.” The man looked outside wistfully as he finished, while the woman agreed with no qualms.

“It really is pretty.” The man cleared his throat, and brought his hands up to the window, but his expression was one of remorse. His hands slid down the window, and curled up into a fist, as if he were staving something off.  The woman looked worriedly at him, but soon enough, the man brought his arms back to his knees and kicked back so that he were now facing the ceiling. With his arms reaching towards the ceiling, he finished off his list, “The last reason why I love winter, is because of that day.”

“That day?” The woman asked.

“Yeah. I’ve never told you before, in fact. I’ve never told anyone before,” The man’s eyes narrowed, it was as if he could peer into those days he lost, those days that he would never forget. His hand, that was outstretched to the ceiling, were now weak and limp to his side, stretched out like he was making a snow angel. The woman turned, and brought her back to the window, and faced the man.

“I’ve never told anyone that story, about how I met her on that day in winter.” The woman stayed silent.

“I think I was about ten. Do you remember when we visited my hometown during the summer?”  The woman nodded.

“It was there that I met her. That was the first time I ever met a person that I was so absorbed in. She was also the only person I had on my mind when I had to leave for my father’s work. I left her there, along with the rest of my memories of that place.  I wasn’t sad at first, I didn’t have much friends there to begin with. I was actually happy. But when I met her, I don’t think I could ever say the same thing again. I wanted her to know. To know that she was my first real friend. I wanted her to know just how much she saved me on that day in winter.”

“Can you tell me more about that girl?” The woman perked her head up at the man, with a small smile on her face. The man got up, and faced the woman, before he could open his mouth, he couldn’t help but smile himself as well. He looked around the room, and began scratching his head before crossing his legs and sighing.

“It all started with me.”

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