Short Story: Defrost
Guess what?
Guess what indeed.
==========
"So, I guess you weren't kidding after all."
It was a strange sight. The door was ajar, and the cold breeze of the northern gales crept in ever so slightly into the coffee shop.
Maligned as the weather may be, the frosty breath of the night dissipated as it tried to defeat the warm sighs of the coffee to no avail.
"Yeah. On the fourth. Next week."
Pause. Awkwardness. Surprise. Silence.
A void where voices were lost as they tried to reach their destination. Or rather, a void within the mind so preoccupied that the senses gave way for the brain to think better.
Though it seemed that the sense of touch did not give way entirely.
Pat. A hand on the shoulder.
"Guys, we're closing up."
Both once again saw the steam, the coffee, then the table, then each other's hands. One shaking. One still.
A waste of good coffee wouldn't be wise, especially if it costs so goddamned much, both thought. She wiped her lips with tissue, though the tissue did not hide her shaking hands. With great effort, he pushed his seat back. "Let's go. Thanks, Mike." A hearty greeting for a friend as misplaced as a cat would be in a party of mice.
Never more, never less; sky's undone, winter's dress. The road was slippery, though both seemed to be used to walking on such icy paths. Seemingly aimless, as walks naturally are, but when they turned, they saw where their feet had taken them.
The cliffside.
If this sheet of white were a doormat, then it would have been one huge doormat. Nevertheless, both trudged on the snow-covered plain as if the endless white were indeed a doormat, one with the heartful phrase "Welcome home" was printed.
Rock paper scissors? Such words matter not... Ordinarily. Yet, it doesn't have anything to do with the both of them, at the present, anyway.
Or maybe it did.
On a flat rock, both sat. A foot or two apart, looking at the middle, where a dainty hand was shaking again, facing a clenched fist.
"You win." A faint voice trailed off, carried by the winds.
"You always win. I never thought..." Silence was eating her voice away. She stood up.
"It's impossible. I thought it was impossible..." Her voice trailed off, wispfully turning away, hair swaying like a silk curtain in the wind.
He sighed and stood by her side. "That's why we call it a dream. Something from the realm of slumber. But guess what?"
Everything fell silent.
"We sleep to dream. We wake to fulfill."
In what seemed to be a split second, she had leaped and wrapped her arms around him. The closeness she was so familiar with... Hands gripping the sweater she had given him earlier, left over the right, never wanting to let go.
Silence tried to overpower her voice, but it was clear enough; head resting on his shoulder, tears flowing. He returned the embrace, and the frost-laden nocturne breath seemed to matter no longer.
"Thank you."
Her left hand might freeze to death, but the sparkle of the gold and diamond on it seemed to be much brighter while the moon looked upon the two of them, outside, within the cold winter night.
It would be a busy week for both.
But, perhaps, they didn't care.
Guess what indeed.
==========
"So, I guess you weren't kidding after all."
It was a strange sight. The door was ajar, and the cold breeze of the northern gales crept in ever so slightly into the coffee shop.
Maligned as the weather may be, the frosty breath of the night dissipated as it tried to defeat the warm sighs of the coffee to no avail.
"Yeah. On the fourth. Next week."
Pause. Awkwardness. Surprise. Silence.
A void where voices were lost as they tried to reach their destination. Or rather, a void within the mind so preoccupied that the senses gave way for the brain to think better.
Though it seemed that the sense of touch did not give way entirely.
Pat. A hand on the shoulder.
"Guys, we're closing up."
Both once again saw the steam, the coffee, then the table, then each other's hands. One shaking. One still.
A waste of good coffee wouldn't be wise, especially if it costs so goddamned much, both thought. She wiped her lips with tissue, though the tissue did not hide her shaking hands. With great effort, he pushed his seat back. "Let's go. Thanks, Mike." A hearty greeting for a friend as misplaced as a cat would be in a party of mice.
Never more, never less; sky's undone, winter's dress. The road was slippery, though both seemed to be used to walking on such icy paths. Seemingly aimless, as walks naturally are, but when they turned, they saw where their feet had taken them.
The cliffside.
If this sheet of white were a doormat, then it would have been one huge doormat. Nevertheless, both trudged on the snow-covered plain as if the endless white were indeed a doormat, one with the heartful phrase "Welcome home" was printed.
Rock paper scissors? Such words matter not... Ordinarily. Yet, it doesn't have anything to do with the both of them, at the present, anyway.
Or maybe it did.
On a flat rock, both sat. A foot or two apart, looking at the middle, where a dainty hand was shaking again, facing a clenched fist.
"You win." A faint voice trailed off, carried by the winds.
"You always win. I never thought..." Silence was eating her voice away. She stood up.
"It's impossible. I thought it was impossible..." Her voice trailed off, wispfully turning away, hair swaying like a silk curtain in the wind.
He sighed and stood by her side. "That's why we call it a dream. Something from the realm of slumber. But guess what?"
Everything fell silent.
"We sleep to dream. We wake to fulfill."
In what seemed to be a split second, she had leaped and wrapped her arms around him. The closeness she was so familiar with... Hands gripping the sweater she had given him earlier, left over the right, never wanting to let go.
Silence tried to overpower her voice, but it was clear enough; head resting on his shoulder, tears flowing. He returned the embrace, and the frost-laden nocturne breath seemed to matter no longer.
"Thank you."
Her left hand might freeze to death, but the sparkle of the gold and diamond on it seemed to be much brighter while the moon looked upon the two of them, outside, within the cold winter night.
It would be a busy week for both.
But, perhaps, they didn't care.