Oneshot: Romantic Love


The snow is white, pure, and dazzling. And my hot chocolate – fresh from the pot – steams into my face, clouding my vision for just a brief moment before it clears up, revealing the beautiful vista before us once more.

She is laughing next to me, cheering with joy – and then she is gone, bounding past the doorstep, her boots sloshing through the snow. Oh, the beauty of her laughter! The delight in her voice! What kind of man would I have to be to not crack a smile at her unfettered joy?

“Come on!” she now yells, a grin plastered over her face. I oblige, gently setting my cup down on the cabinet before lacing up my own boots and running out into the freshly-sown snow.

Everything is peaceful, everything is perfect. Even her snowball, which hits me directly in the face, dampens my spirits no more than rain dampens that of a flower’s. I lob one right back at her; it misses, but maybe that’s what I intended.

It’s just the two of us, enjoying the delights that only a forest winter can bring. The trees are silent, paying homage to our love, freshly reborn by the empty vastness that surrounds us, offering up a canvas in which we can paint our passions without bounds, in whichever way we like.

And we take up that offer at once, and I can hear her pealing laughter once more as she falls down on the snow, sweeping her legs and arms wide to create a snow angel, that innocent bastion of playtime in snow.

I wish time was frozen, just like everything else around us – from the icicles draping across the pines, to the crystal-clear brook off in the distance, I wish we could stay together, just like this, making snow angels and throwing snowballs.

Because for a few blissful moments, everything is perfect, just like the pristine snow that we now find ourselves romping through. The twittering of birds roam through the trees, yet they never seek to broach the peace that now falls between me and her – as we lie, on top of each other, our noses red from the cold. There are snowflakes on her eyelashes.

Beautiful, I think. No, on second thought, I don’t want to think. I want to simply be at peace, her body wrapped around mine, sharing the warmth that only the deepest, burning passion can provide.

Time seems to stop, along with everything else. There’s only us. Us, the clean air, and the pure white snow that cushions our embrace.

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