Snowflakes

Something I thought of when I woke up.

He woke up, half a face buried into his pillow. He turned to face the ceiling, and began to review the night's visions before they faded away from his memory. Disappointed, he sneered to himself, and let his body remain limp for a few more minutes. He was an old man, he liked to think, though he was only forty. He took a lot of naps.
"If I can't find you in my dreams, then where?" he asked. He had been waiting for that answer for a long time. Knowing the response would never come, he climbed out of bed and walked towards the kitchen. He realized how cold it was beyond he blankets, and scrambled for a pair of shabby slippers and a once-white robe. He clutched his arms to his body as he scuttled to the stove to make a cup of tea.
It's too cold here, he thought to himself. That's only because it's December, another part of his mind snapped. The first voice responded, it's always too cold here. The voices in his head had always debated, but only in recent years had their arguments become so trivial. He lit a burner and placed a kettle over it.
It was a long, fruitless trip that ended him up in chilly North Dakota, middle aged, half numb and two-thirds apathetic. His nation-wide search for a vanished woman had ended after fifteen years in the North-West corner of the country. He had been trapped by the naïve, futile dream of his twenty-five year old self, for some reason �" loyalty and integrity, his brain offered; foolish stubbornness, it also suggested.
He should have settled down when he had the chance, he thought. It wasn't as if he had been faithful to the vague memory of the girl, after all. At least one of the dozen or so women would have taken a ring on their finger if he had asked, but now they were all married or dead �" or so he assumed, seeing as he never bothered to keep in contact with them. For all he knew, his "soul mate" could be long dead or happily wedded. He turned off the stove, seeing the steam start to rise, and not wanting to hear the whistle's scream. Some missing people just want to remain missing.
Enough of that, he told himself. He took his tea to the table in his apartment's kitchen, and tried to turn his mind off while staring into the distance. He found himself somewhat agitated by the tacky wallpaper on the far side of the room, and decided it would be better to look out the window. He watched a few people, burdened by extra layers of clothing, trudging slowly through the falling snow, and found some amusement in their struggle. Regretfully, he recalled something she had said to him once:
"Every snowflake is unique, you know."
"Feh!"
"I'll be back in a week."
"Feh!"
He walked away from the window, and took a sip from his mug. At least the tea was warm.

Author's Note

Tum te tum

Reviews

[WriterMe]

Haha this was really nice. The thought of a grumpy old man complaining about the cold, seems to be a pretty cute idea. But inducing a tinge of love was a great touch as well. I'll be reading more from you. This piece, simple yet profound, brought a smile to my lips. Something I desperately needed right now.
Great work =]