Snow

Above her, between the big concrete louvers, the world is bright; a place she once enjoyed, a different place. If she turns her head and looks between the slabs, she could watch him coming, but she knows. Instead, she watches the few dry leaves that have floated in perform a scraping dance across the floor. He comes in, pauses a moment to look down at her, and lies down on the cool, bare concrete next to her. He turns to face her and smiles feebly. She watches him reach for his pocket and produce a small, white box.

“For you,” he says, holding it out to her.

No, she shakes her head, no.

He pushes himself a little closer to her, “here, it’s been over a month now.”

She again indicates no and moves incrementally away, a few leaves crunch beneath her. It’s been some time now and she doesn’t like it, it’s not her.

“But I came here to give this to you,” extending his hand as he closes the distance between them.

She pushes herself slowly away; she’s very weak, but she won’t give in.

“Why not?” he says, finally dropping the box.

She can’t move further, “because, someday, I’ll be as light as snow.”