Snow. It covered every inch of Mother Earth, smothering her lush fields and rolling green hills with white, pure white. My robotic limbs creak with every careful, measured step I take across the floorboards, light and feathered. I am no longer a recluse. I am leaving the warmth, the familiarity, the memories, the lavender walls, Mother's old mug, and you. I am leaving you, especially you. I step out my door, exposed to the forest of trees and bleak darkness. To the world, I am just a fragile blossom, blooming too soon at the moment of false security, soon to be silenced by frost. Fickle girl, silly girl. I am unaware. The biting wind sends shivers up and down my spine, but I am numb. I feel nothing. I start walking with no destination in mind. The wind is terribly alone tonight. It is singing, coaxing me to join it for a dance. What lovely music, a winter hymn. I keep walking. I squint my eyes, taking in the isolated plains, snowed in and beautiful. I keep walking. I look down at my clenched hands, pale and frozen. I keep walking. My teeth are chattering violently but I do not hear it, for I am lost in the static of your words, burning in the recesses of my fragmented memory. I keep walking. Finally, I fall to my knees, in defeat? In exhaustion? I do not know. I roll over onto my back, feeling the snow seep through the sheer fabrics of my clothing. I stare at the darkened sky, and I swear your voice is calling my name. It is almost as if you never left me at all. Hallucinations. You are lying on the snow beside me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. You paint such beautiful landscapes, dear, with that canvas of yours. Please do not leave me. I think I feel my sanity slowly slipping away, like pearls melting through the crevices of greedy fingers. Silly me. I close my eyes and the snow starts to fall down from the sky. Slowly. Very slowly. Snowflakes pierce my exposed skin, sharp and jagged, perfect crystalline pinpricks. I wish for sleep. How beautiful it would be to fall asleep to the lull of the fierce winds, the low murmur of your voice. The mere fact of losing control excites me, for I long to feel something real. And this is something real. Tonight I lie in this quiet wonderland and I am Alice. I must be beautiful. That summer, I was invincible because you were invincible. I am invincible tonight, for you are by my side. I am miles away, the snow coaxing me in a frosty slumber. I oblige.