1. 072111 (Goodnight by Avalanche City)
His steps were even and planned. Hers were frigid and hesitant.
"Sorry, I forgot." He rubbed the stubble on his chin with a gentle nature she almost always noticed. She shook her head slightly.
"It's alright. I don't have anything tomorrow." She looked at her finger through the hole in her mitten. It was turning pink, like his lips. She noticed his eyes, like grass, glistened with dew from the morning frost. The flecks of gold shone brighter as passing cars shot by. He kicked snow away from his path and into the street as the silence grew.
A cough. "I don't suppose you know what to do then."
"I don't suppose you know me very well, then." Her raised eyebrows rendered him confused.
"But you always tell me your advice is no good." He started kicking the snow with more force, away from their conversation. His foot figured they needed space.
"I have advice. I always know what to do. But it's no good." She met his eyes again. She stayed there until it became too much for her, and she looked forward once more.
"Well, I'm sure it's plenty decent advice. Great, even." He picked up a small wad of snow, and held it close, forming an even lumpier wad of snow. He kicked it across the street. "Can I hear it?" he asked, curious, but conspicuously nervous.
She watched the stars for a long time, still walking towards the Meadow. He thought he saw her close her eyes tightly for a split second, but it was probably the reflection of that white car, he told himself. "Do you want to know what I really think?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
He paused as he looked in her eyes. "Sincerely."
She ducked her head as they entered the meadow. With fresh snow and untouched beauty, the meadow was a new start. He remembered he was holding his breath when he noticed she took his hand in hers. His eyes searched her face, from her small chin and large ears, to her ripe nose and pale lips. Her eyes were oddly calm. Inviting.
"I think your ideas make you amazing. Your laugh makes you warm and soft. Your wit makes you fantastic and laughable in the best way. Your thoughts make you beautiful." Her hand started shaking, so she willed it to stay strong, and it followed. "And I suppose I'm not sorry anymore, I just love the way you are."
He took her head in his hands softly, like she almost always noticed. "Your advice?"
"Be with me." Her lips crashed onto his, a flurry of snow and heat. The meadow breezed with agreement.
His steps were even and planned. Hers were frigid and hesitant.
"Sorry, I forgot." He rubbed the stubble on his chin with a gentle nature she almost always noticed. She shook her head slightly.
"It's alright. I don't have anything tomorrow." She looked at her finger through the hole in her mitten. It was turning pink, like his lips. She noticed his eyes, like grass, glistened with dew from the morning frost. The flecks of gold shone brighter as passing cars shot by. He kicked snow away from his path and into the street as the silence grew.
A cough. "I don't suppose you know what to do then."
"I don't suppose you know me very well, then." Her raised eyebrows rendered him confused.
"But you always tell me your advice is no good." He started kicking the snow with more force, away from their conversation. His foot figured they needed space.
"I have advice. I always know what to do. But it's no good." She met his eyes again. She stayed there until it became too much for her, and she looked forward once more.
"Well, I'm sure it's plenty decent advice. Great, even." He picked up a small wad of snow, and held it close, forming an even lumpier wad of snow. He kicked it across the street. "Can I hear it?" he asked, curious, but conspicuously nervous.
She watched the stars for a long time, still walking towards the Meadow. He thought he saw her close her eyes tightly for a split second, but it was probably the reflection of that white car, he told himself. "Do you want to know what I really think?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
He paused as he looked in her eyes. "Sincerely."
She ducked her head as they entered the meadow. With fresh snow and untouched beauty, the meadow was a new start. He remembered he was holding his breath when he noticed she took his hand in hers. His eyes searched her face, from her small chin and large ears, to her ripe nose and pale lips. Her eyes were oddly calm. Inviting.
"I think your ideas make you amazing. Your laugh makes you warm and soft. Your wit makes you fantastic and laughable in the best way. Your thoughts make you beautiful." Her hand started shaking, so she willed it to stay strong, and it followed. "And I suppose I'm not sorry anymore, I just love the way you are."
He took her head in his hands softly, like she almost always noticed. "Your advice?"
"Be with me." Her lips crashed onto his, a flurry of snow and heat. The meadow breezed with agreement.
