The first snowfall always reminded Emma, The First Snow, of her childhood. She would wake up early, pressed against the frosty window pane watching the flakes drift silently from the grey sky. Her nose would fog up the glass as her breath escaped in anticipation. Snow days were the best - sledding down steep hills, snowball fights that left her soaked and breathless, the satisfying crunch of fresh powder under her boots. Snow made everything new again.
This year, Emma, The First Snow, watched the first snow alone. She clutched her coffee with both hands, stealing some of its warmth. Outside the world was muffled and slow, submerged under the gentle assault of winter.
She wondered if he was seeing this too. Maybe snow was falling wherever he had gone, blanketing the sharp edges of his pain. She imagined him standing just like her, hands wrapped around a hot drink, face tilted towards the sky. The snow would cling to his dark eyelashes and dust his curls. He was probably alone too.
Emma, The First Snow, took a deep breath. She had avoided thinking about him since he left six months ago. The anniversary of his mother's death had sent him into a downward spiral. He retreated into himself, no longer speaking or even getting out of bed some days. She wanted to understand, so she gave him space. She began to ponder whether that was an error.
The distance between them grew until there was nothing left to tether them together. He started talking about leaving town for a while to clear his head. Before she could process what that meant, he was gone.
She moved through the days in a daze. Her friends said she was better off without him and his “baggage.” They talked about him coldly, as if he was just a chapter that ended. Emma, The First Snow, knew they were wrong, but she had no way to explain it. So she withdrew into her shell and waited for the ache to recede.
It hadn’t, if she was honest with herself. The first snowfall only highlighted the frosty cavern in her chest. She wondered if she should have fought harder to make him stay. She wondered if he ever thought of her as the flakes fell around him. She wondered if he was okay.
Emma, The First Snow, turned away from the window. She carried her coffee to the kitchen table, where yesterday's mail was in a pile. She flipped through the envelopes, discarding the flyers and bills. Near the bottom of the stack was a postcard depicting a snowy pine forest. Her heart quickened as she turned it over.
His handwriting was unmistakable. "Emma, The First Snow, I apologize for my exit," the postcard said. "I know it's been some time, but I wanted you to comprehend this."
Emma, The First Snow's hands trembled, making the postcard shake. She read his words over and over until they blurred. After all this time, he still had her on his mind. She imagined him standing in a shop somewhere, selecting just the right wintry scene. Did his fingers hesitate over the postcard, unsure if he should contact her? What compelled him to reach out at this moment?
She rushed to get her laptop, nearly spilling her coffee in the process. She had to find him, to let him know she had gotten his message. Her heart pounded as she typed his name into the search bar. Nothing came up. He had deactivated all of his social media accounts.
Emma, The First Snow, stared at the screen, deflated. But she noticed the postmark on the postcard - he had mailed it from Burke, a small town a few hours north. She mapped it, then searched for lodging. There were only two hotels in town. She quickly called both, asking if he was staying there. Neither had a guest by that name.
She sat back, realizing she had no other leads. Burke was surrounded by state forests and mountain ridges. He could be anywhere. Where should she even start in her search for him?
As she blinked back frustrated tears, her eyes landed on the postcard again. The snowy pine trees. That was it - she would start with the state forests near town. If he went to clear his head, that's where he would be. She could drive up, show his photo around the area. Someone must have seen something.
Without overthinking it, Emma, The First Snow, packed a bag and got in her car. The snow fell heavily now, but she was undeterred. She had to try, even if it was hopeless. Because she knew now more than ever that he was irreplaceable to her. She had to bring him home, where he belonged.
The drive was slow and tense. She blasted the heat, clutching the steering wheel with nervous energy. It was late afternoon by the time she reached Burke. The sleepy Main Street was already buried in snow. She stopped at a gas station to fill up and ask the clerk about nearby lodges or cabins for rent. He mentioned a few possibilities, but said most vacationers didn't start coming until after Christmas. The forests would be deserted this time of year.
Emma, The First Snow, focused on thinking positive while traveling to the state park. She had already made it this far, she couldn't reverse course now. Even if it required navigating these slippery backroads well into the night, she was determined not to leave without him.
The paved road ended abruptly at the park's entrance. From there she crept along narrow snowy lanes that wound between towering pines. There were no other tire tracks - it seemed she was the only fool venturing out in a snowstorm. But at least that meant someone would notice his car if it was parked nearby.
As the last light faded, Emma, The First Snow, began to lose hope. The forest was simply too vast - she could drive right by him and never know. Defeated tears blurred her vision until she realized she could no longer make out the road ahead. Panicked, she slowed to a stop. The snow was accumulating too fast - if she got stuck out here, no one would find her for days. With a heavy heart, she turned the car around.
Tears streamed down her face as she drove back towards town. She had failed. She would never see him again, never get to tell him how much he meant to her. It was too late.
Emma, The First Snow, didn't see the foreboding silhouette ahead until it was too late. Her car shrieked sharply as she slammed the brakes, fishtailing off the road into a ditch. The impact expelled the air from her chest. Gasping, she examined herself - no injuries, but the car was tilted dangerously. She needed assistance.
Shuddering, Emma, The First Snow, zipped her coat and opened the door. Snow swirled fiercely around her as she got out. "Hello?" she called, but the wind muted her voice. She followed her one set of prints back to the road.
That's when she saw it - another set of footprints joining hers. They led away through the trees, too big to be an animal. She stared wide-eyed as the wind whipped her face. Could it be...?
Emma, The First Snow, took off running, following the tracks. The snow stung her eyes but she kept going. She had to know. "Hello?" she yelled again desperately.
A dark silhouette emerged from
the whiteout. Emma, The First Snow, froze. The figure slowly came into focus - a green hat pulled low, worn boots crunching through the snow. And eyes that she would know anywhere, now wide with disbelief.
Before she could second guess herself, Emma, The First Snow, threw her arms around him, almost knocking them both over. He was real, he was here. She buried her face in his coat, breathing him in.
"You found me," he whispered, embracing her tight. His voice broke with feeling. "I can't believe it, but you actually found me."
Emma, The First Snow, looked up at him, tears mixing with the melting snow on her cheeks. "I'll always find you," she said.
He caressed her face lightly, catching the tears with his glove. “I was so lost without you,” he uttered. “Can you grant me your forgiveness?”
Emma, The First Snow, kissed him deeply, leaving no doubt. They stood entwined as the snow swirled down, blanketing them in white.
Wow, all that trouble for a lucky reunion... Interesting I must say
!PIZZA
Thanks for reading and appreciate me with Pizza again thanks
This narrative is well written and on the whole, an enjoyable read, but it could do with a bit more balance - the use of dialogue to aid the reader's understanding of the relationship between the two lovers, and witness it's gradual breakdown, would have elevated the piece as a story. The tone/language in the closing dialogue also feels a little mismatched between them. His language feels very formal in dialogue and in the postcard. Another strange formality was her name: Emma, The First Snow? Was there a reason for this? I ask as the constant use of the formal title can be slightly jarring.
We'd love to get to know you better but you do not appear to have written an intro post. You can still do this even though your account was opened 6 months ago. Getting to know our writers means that we are able to consider full curation of their quality submissions to The Ink Well.
Thank you for the tips! I'll do my best, and I've also created an introductory post for when I reach at least rank 60, as that's my goal.
A beautiful winter love story which tells of love that burned strong and true even in time of trouble, they stuck to each other. It's admirable.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read.
You're welcome.
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