A Dream of Snow

It snows for the first time in twenty years. Grey fills my vision, another colourless smudge in this eternally colourless world. Snow drifts like fallen ash.

Ash…or snow?

I cannot be sure. I remember snow from a time before, before the world as we knew it ended. It was white then, pearlescent. Soft like feather down, and bone-chilling, but also so, so warm beside a fire, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. I lick my lips. It tastes like a forgotten dream.

Unwittingly, I stick out my tongue. Something brushes against it, the remnants of a lover’s kiss. I stretch out a trembling hand, the skin mottled and ribbed like woollen gloves. Snow kisses the cold digits.

Something glows orange in the distance, flickering like lights from a house. My aged legs protest as I struggle to my feet, dragging them across the barren plain. If only I could get there…

My lungs rattle.

Maybe I could go back-

I land face-first in the snow. Child-like laughter rings through the air like bells, the first human voice in years. “Look! Jimmy’s tripped over his own feet again!”.

A cough burns in my chest, stretching and warping at the edges until it resembles a rasping laugh. My eyes drift shut, a feeling of warmth and safety blanketing me even as my sense fade. It’s alright to rest, I think, because soon someone with the softest embrace will gather me in her arms, and chide me for staying out too late.