Quote:
This time of year, snow is common. What’s uncommon is the single, strange snowfall that glistened like tiny diamonds. Everything about the snow seemed normal—it’s cold, wet, and melts just like any other snow, it just also happens to look like tiny little gems are falling from the sky. Depending on who you’re with, it’s either incredibly strange, or incredibly romantic.
Louis wasn’t the type to really be all that sentimental when it came to snow. Much less, when it came to feeling like he had anything invested in relation to snow or snowfall. If anything he should see it as something to be dreaded, dismissed, abhorred and reviled. Yet as the snow fell from grey clouds that hung too low in the sky he felt a strange sense of melancholy. It wasn’t often he ruminated about his lot in life, but when he did it left the mane with a sense of ennui. He had few friends, and spend most of his day alone and not caring much for the outside world. He enjoyed his solitutde. He sought companionship very rarely, and when he did it was often a fleeting thing, a one night stand at best or a simple and brief crossing of paths that would diverge once the moment was gone.
Yet the snow made him feel regret. It was easy to blend into the cold landscape, the way it glittered like gemstones, like starseeds in the air and floated down to ear in a silent storm that would hinder life and throttle daily activities. It was always a bit fascinating to him how easily people would allow themselves to become so caught up in snow, in a simple weather phenomena that was hardly new or strange in it’s own right.
Yet snow fell, crystal water clear as glass or white as clouds. It fell, and it made him feel emotions he didn’t often like to dwell on or think about. Snow was for the lovers, the children, the innocent at heart and those who cared for the colder climes. He felt- other. Alone in life, snow was made of so many unique individual snowflakes that together shaped the very world and could kill if left to those exposed to it’s unfeeling warmth stealing chill. Snow was a silent soft killer, taking life after being admired and feared in the same breath.
Sitting at home, his heater on and his socks dry, he drank steaming tea as he gazed out the window to the world below. Covered in white, it posed no threat behind the two panel glass. It offered him nothing in advantages if he were to go out, seeking starseeds among the glittering flakes that shimmered in the sky. Energy was warmth, and to drain people would be to kill slowly, the cold taking their lives and letting starseeds flutter and fade out of existance. Green eyes gazed out his window and he wondered when he’d become this- a man with not connections, not ties, nothing that bound him to others so tightly that he need worry for them or himself if he were to go out into the snow and seek starseeds to fill his duty to his world.
He was Louis, a man without, a man alone. Lime was a name of stone, a mineral that burned. It was a reflection of his loneliness given form. A single snowflake in a blanket of white.
