Drabble: Snow
It was not quite a hundred years of snow, she mused as she pulsed through the wet stuff that had fallen during the night, but this winter the snow hadn’t gone away in three days’ time as it usually did. The mild winters in the southern regions of her country seldom allowed the temperature to sink beneath freezing, but this year was different. The snow had endured, covering the usually brown fields and creating something beautiful out of the half-finished buildings to her right.
The young woman stopped and knelt down, driving her hand through the icy surface and down through the softer snow underneath, watching in fascination as the sharp crystals left red marks on her skin and then melted away.
Snow. It appeared, melted, appeared again. It was just as fickle and unpredictable as she was not. Just as beautiful as she wished she could be, and as uncaring. Shaking her head, she straightened and went on her way towards the half buried bus station. It was another morning, just like all the others. Most people would say that her life was neither more repetitious nor more tedious than any other person's, and they would probably be right. She couldn't help but hate it anyway, especially on days when nature decided to put her loss on display by creating undeserved beauty around her.
Stiff, wet fingers gripped the handle on the bus and she pulled herself onboard with a graceless movement, giving the driver a half-hearted smile.
The young woman stopped and knelt down, driving her hand through the icy surface and down through the softer snow underneath, watching in fascination as the sharp crystals left red marks on her skin and then melted away.
Snow. It appeared, melted, appeared again. It was just as fickle and unpredictable as she was not. Just as beautiful as she wished she could be, and as uncaring. Shaking her head, she straightened and went on her way towards the half buried bus station. It was another morning, just like all the others. Most people would say that her life was neither more repetitious nor more tedious than any other person's, and they would probably be right. She couldn't help but hate it anyway, especially on days when nature decided to put her loss on display by creating undeserved beauty around her.
Stiff, wet fingers gripped the handle on the bus and she pulled herself onboard with a graceless movement, giving the driver a half-hearted smile.