The snow fell, light and pure white as cotton, swirling, twirling in an intricate ballet through the frigid, biting air. The sky hung heavy – a dreary, gray slate – the last few dregs of sunlight reflecting off the pearly hills and sheets of expansive ice. Hardly a soul was to be found but for a lone presence: a girl perhaps seventeen years of age, bundled in a dark coat, scarf pulled high and tight against the sharp Maine winter, standing at the zenith of a bridge overlooking the frozen river.  Lonely, some might call it – desolate even – but such was the way she desired it.

     Rather, “fitting” would have been her word of choice.

     The world around her was cold and empty; her life too was headed that way. Perhaps it wasn’t technically there quite yet, but it may well have been. The loss already hurt enough, even before it actually came, but, though she’d live through it, what was life when there wasn’t any person to live for? That was the cruelty of it all. For years, she’d never known how much she lacked, and now, having finally earned that experience, it had blindsided her. The worst part? There was no going back to that blissful ignorance.

     “Selene?” The voice cut through the air, clear as a bell, painful as a knife, for it was all too agonizing in its familiarity.

     “Just go, please,” were the first words she managed to force out without turning; she could find no need to see the face she knew to be watching her, concern written across it, didn’t want to make the already treacherous ordeal any harder than it was.

     But of course, her weak commands went unheeded, and the footsteps only continued to approach, crunching harshly in the freshly powdered snow, settling at a cautious distance away. “I’m not leaving.” A deep, gentle, soothing tenor, one that would’ve, in the past, taken the overbearing stress from her tired shoulders.

     “Quit lying to me, okay?” She finally turned to face the dark, deep pools of endless blue, set beneath silky, chocolate brown hair, thoughtful yet piercing in their richness. “You already know that’s not true, and so do I.”

     “I’m not talking about that. I mean right now. Why would I leave my best girl out here in the cold all alone?” A soft smile graced his lips, as though that might blot out the terror of what was to come in the following days.

     Instead, a frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Because it’s what she wants; that’s why, Paul.” Arms crossed before her chest, apparently standing firm in that decision, though, in reality, it was still hard enough to convince only herself. Was this really what she wanted?  Loneliness over comfort? Despair over contentment?

     Yes, the logical part of her mind wanted to insist, but it was an answer lacking any trace of conviction, even in her own head.

     “Is it really?” he asked the question carefully, not harsh and biting nor utilizing their normal measure of teasing sarcasm – that natural ease that existed solely between the two of them and no other. For weaving those intricate connections was a skill not come by easily for her, so to lose this one thing, this one precious thing, pained her worse than a blade imbedded and twisted into her heart. “Is that really what you want?” he reiterated, taking a step closer, charging the air between them with sizzling electricity. “This isolation? I’m not gone yet.”

     “But you will be, so what difference does that make?” she snapped, spinning to face the frozen surface of the river. “I just –  I just don’t want to drag this out any longer.”

     “Drag what out longer?” He didn’t leave, and she wasn’t sure if that was to her dismay or relief. “Please tell me, what’s so bad about this?”

     “It’s just that every time I see you now, it’s not something good like it used to be.” Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears, tight and tense with the flood of old memories from years past. The sweet moments, the stupid jokes, the trivial arguments. So many things stained at this point with the knowledge that there were none left to come, that their time together had expired. “It’s just another reminder that your parents, this move, is bringing all those times to an end.”

     Footsteps again signaled as he pressed away the rest of the gap, this time gently wrapping his arms about her slender waist and resting his chin lightly on her shoulder.  A short gasp escaped the confines of her lips though she didn’t make a move to pull away, the warm familiarity rooting her to the spot while keeping the cold harshness of logic at bay. Encouraged, he spoke, hot breath fluttering by her ear. “Then why not make these last memories into more good ones? Ones to hold onto forever?”

     “There’s no point, that’s why.” She spun out of his grip and faced him, intending to speak more forcefully toward him in that matter, make certain he accepted her points, because she needed to ensure he understood. Force him to see that if his parents were to tear them apart, the necessity of a soldier’s family, it would be best to end it all earlier, rip off the bandage and endure the sharp sting rather than prolonging the torture, falsely believing it might do more good, cause less pain. But all to no avail in the end as her plans fell away and any words were stopped by soft lips on hers, the gentle kiss persuading her kaleidoscope hazel eyes to close. And, just then, in that moment, everything else, the entire world and its host of problems, dissolved into heavenly oblivion. None of the magic had disappeared nor diluted over the years, every drop of love exactly as potent in this kiss as their first. Subconsciously, her hand found its way into his hair, fingers threading through the silky strands as his held tightly, protectively, at her back. The air between them gradually heated, and oxygen suddenly proved scarce, driving them apart, surprise still evident on her face, a pleased smile lighting his.

     “You still sure about that?”

     “I – I don’t know,” she stammered, not quite ready to simply give in, but at the same time wanting so badly to do just that. A dangerous paradox. Wanting to be strong, not some damsel in distress, but her Prince Charming was here and lovingly obstinate about being anywhere else. So maybe, just maybe, was she allowed this one privilege?

     The boy sighed, holding his princess in his arms, a light burning, an eternal flame in his eyes. “Why do you insist on being so stubborn?”

     “Because all this, this new memory, it’ll just hurt me that much more the second you’re gone.”

     “And you think this doesn’t hurt me, too? I’m gonna be a mess as soon as we’re apart.” A dramatic shake of the head with his deceptively light tone of voice, in line with that outgoing, charming personality of his. The perfect opposite of her quiet cynicism, and the only way to pry her from that hard, protective shell. The kind of person she thought impossible of breaking down, though such an assessment would prove entirely incorrect within a few hours’ time. “Okay then,” he continued, still seemingly completely unperturbed, “if you’re so opposed to making new memories, how about we relive the old ones?”

     Her forehead gently creased. “What –?”

     “You remember when we first met?”

     Unprompted, a ghost of a smile pulled at her lip; that particular moment wasn’t tainted by bitterness, and she hoped it would stay that way. After all, it had been at a point when everything regarding them was simple, no hint of romance, only fast friendship. “The dance hall. Of course.”

     “Yeah.” He glided in closer to her, lightly taking her wrists, placing them atop his shoulders before situating his at her waist. “It was a cold day at the onset of a winter, years back. Outside, the snow fell, but within the confines of the building all was warm,” he narrated in a storyteller’s voice though her mind filled in the rest of the details itself. An old fashioned dance hall, tucked away into a quiet corner of town, welcoming glows bouncing golden off of homely hardwood floors. All in all a far cry from the popular clubs with their throngs of bodies, psychedelic lights, and blaring music. She’d come to this place and found the peace she desired, watching from a corner table as couples danced and laughed, never really and truly bothered by the seclusion.

     Until him. Out of nowhere a boy about her age approached, sitting across from her, and, soon enough, one thing led to another as they found themselves discussing all things nerd: favorite movie, fictional world, superhero, sci-fi versus fantasy. Suddenly, with the music switching to something slow and sweet, he was asking her to dance with a kind of spontaneity she’d never once known in her life prior. They’d rocked back and forth, occasionally stumbling over the others’ feet and shrugging off the mistakes – humans were such imperfect beings after all. No words passed between them neither then nor now, for in the past, to break the near-dream seemed in every way a crime, and in the present, no need existed for frivolous sayings of commitment and devotion as there was naught to be proven. Time stopped its frantic race, slowing around them, and the amount spent as the snow crunched beneath their synchronized steps could have been hours, minutes, seconds even. Something so trivial as time ceased to matter.

     However, the setting sun eventually broke their trance, painting reds, pinks, and oranges, across the canvas of the sky, throwing its dying rays across the slippery ice. No longer were they living in the years back, but in the current comfort of their closeness. And, somehow, suddenly, there was no desire left within her to escape that proximity, too content with the familiarity, considering the possibility she’d been wrong, that this encounter wasn’t such a horrible choice after all.

     Unfortunately, reality didn’t quite work that way, didn’t always end like the fairy tales. Darkness fell without warning, the silvery luminescence of the moon signaling the late hour, pushing them apart.

     For a few more moments, silence dominated all, vivid blue irises locked on hazel. Eventually, he ventured to break the intricate fabric of quiet. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, beginning to back away, entirely unaware of her realization. “I should’ve known better.” A turn and a couple more steps.

     “No, wait,” she called out impulsively, her heart leaping as he looked again over his shoulder, hope radiating from his features. With slow steps, it was her turn to close the distance again, reaching up to place a feathery, chaste kiss upon his lips. “I just… thank you.” The phrase was hardly adequate, but, well, she couldn’t for the life of her trust her already shoddy elocution. Not now.

     That slight tilt of the head that made him look like some adorably lost puppy. “For what?”

     “For this. For our last dance.” The emotion choked her voice, straining it at the ending words, at the finality of them.

     But he didn’t seem to see it as such a conclusion. “Not our last dance. We’ll meet again someday.” He pulled her into his arms, head hovering just above hers, pressed tight to his chest. True, she knew such a reunion would be unlikely – nigh near impossible, rather – but neither did she have the heart to tell him that, to ruin the wonders of such a fantasy, as his embrace fended off the cold. At this point, she only wanted to savor these last moments (for he’d been right all along about such) and listen as he soothed her, whispers tickling at her ear. “We’ll get another dance. I promise.”