Short Story Sunday | 2

It was the first snowfall of the year, and the sun was still far from dawning. The regular street lamps shone brightly down, the crystals glinting in reflection. She looked up and down the street from her front door. Absolutely silent. This was her favourite moment of the whole year, when everything was peaceful and quiet. The snow was still falling.

Sticking her hand out gently, she watched a few snowflakes drift into her hand and melt; a beautiful sight. The cold water made her shiver, and she clutched her coat tighter around her. Leaving the door ajar behind her, she stepped away from the house, breathing deeply in the crisp early morning air.

The snow had set perfectly, and it had yet to be disturbed. She envisioned the morning to come, children stomping, having snowball fights, cars trudging down the snow-covered road. It would be a shame, she thought, to see this beautiful scene so harshly destroyed. But, then, it left a new canvas. The snow would fall again. She would wake up early again, just like she had tonight.

She dug a hand into her pocket, her fingers clasping around her camera. It clicked as she took her photos. These would be good for a canvas, she thought. Or a calendar. She’d probably submit them to a magazine, see if she could win a competition.

Placing the camera back into her pocket, she trod softly down her path, further from the door. She spun slowly on the spot, and caught a glimpse of a cat scurrying a way down the road. An involuntary shiver went through her again, and she breathed deeply, watching her breath dissipate in front of her. This was true peace, she thought.

A voice called her name quietly from behind, and she turned to look at her boyfriend’s head poking out from her abandoned doorway. He was clutching his coat tightly round him against the cold, and motioned for her to come back inside. She nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath, grinning. This was when she felt at harmony with the world.



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