The snow was falling, the tiny flakes dancing in the freezing wind like thousand white fireflies, each beautiful in its own, unique way. It gathered on an old swingset, sometimes blown away as the wind inspired motion in the creaky swings.
The layer of snow around the swingset was disturbed by deep footprints that marked the path of a certain young woman.
The woman was sitting on one of the swings, her emerald eyes unfocused as she held her open gloved palms up, letting the snow fall down on them.
She was waiting.
She was waiting for a long time, swinging slowly among the flood of dancing fireflies.
Everything was dazzling white. Even the flaccid bouquet of lilies on her lap.
She felt guilty for breaking the perfection of white, but she knew well she isn't the only one breaking something that mattered.
Something stun her cheeks reddened by the chill and she brought her gloves up to wipe it.
Her eyes shifting to the empty bench in front of her, she knew she was crying.
Why?
Because losses hurt.
And promises should be kept.
She looked down at the flowers in her lap and got an idea.
Putting them aside, she stood up, dropping on her knees into the snow and started lumping the snow in front of her.
Squeezing two handfuls of the snow in her hands, she formed a small ball.
She raised it to eyelevel and smiled brightly.
Why?
Because there are no worries when childern play.
Because there is nothing wrong about creating something.
She dropped the ball into snow and started rolling it around, letting the snow stick to it, making it bigger and bigger.
The swings creaked behind her and people walked by, their brows furrowing or smiles gracing their faces as they saw a woman remembering how it felt to be a child.
He knew he was late. Too late.
What he had with her was something very precious to him, but also very precarious.
One mistake was all it took to lose it forever.
To lose her forever.
Something he had for years could be lost in a single moment.
He heard the distant creak of swings and he felt his chest ache because he knew she wasn't waiting.
She didn't have to.
His hands deep in the pockets of his coat, he walked up to his usual place.
His bench was sprinkled with snow.
He brushed the layer away with his hand and sat down, sighing.
I'm here.
He finally managed to look forward, to the abandoned old swingset.
White and sky-blue.
And you're not.
Somehow, he couldn't force himself to be angry or sad.
She didn't wait for me.
Or she did.
But I didn't show up.
I did.
Just too late.
He stared at the swings for a long time, before finally noticing something was off.
What?
A snowman.
Standing next to her favourite swing.
Chubby, and freezing cold.
A mere snowman.
With a small, almost cute frown on his face made up of... what?
Despite himself, he stood up, walking up to the creation.
Even from close proximity, he couldn't quite make up what it was, so he took off his glove and touched it.
Leather.
A wristband.
Taking a better look at the eyes, he realized it was a pair of emerald earrings. They were round, with a kanji for leaf craved into them.
He saw those before.
And as he noticed this, he also recognized the scard wrapped around the snowman's neck.
Unbelievably soft, black with sort of grey dusting, now peppered with snowflakes.
It was hers, there was no doubt about it, he gave this one to her.
It had no hat, but it had hands.
And where there usually was a broom in snowman's hand, this one held a bunch of flaccid lilies.
He dropped to his knees, biting his lip almost hard enough to bite through.
He failed her.
And this was her message.
This was her goodbye, disposing of everything he gave to her through this unbelievably beautiful snowman.
He was late.
And that mattered.
Today it did more than ever.
And he failed her.
He knew what he had was fragile, yet...
he couldn't bring himself to give up on everything else for it.
Even though he knew nothing mattered to him more, he just couldn't... commit himself to it.
It was too fragile to be real, too fragile to really matter.
But it was there for so long, he couldn't imagine it being gone.
And now, with this snowman... it left his life forever.
He still couldn't bring himself to understand, bring himself to feel something else than the damn ache where he hoped his heart still resided, even though he thought maybe it has been shattered.
He looked up into the snowman's earring eyes.
Goodbye.
He reached up and took the eyes, then took the scarf too.
That was hers, that was her message to him and he wanted her to know he got it if she ever came back.
He doubted she would.
But he would come back for sure, just to reminiscence.
He stood up and stepped back.
Somehow the snowman lost all of its beauty all of a sudden.
He couldn't just leave him here, blind without his eyes and cold without his scarf.
He dipped into his pocket for something, anything, to make up for the things he stole.
Glancing into his palm at his pocket's contents he managed to chuckle lightly.
Cough drops.
A small smile gracing the face hidden beneath a layer of wool, he pressed the drops in the holes the earring eyes left.
And now for the scarf...
He mostly didn't walk around with his face uncovered. He wasn't used to it.
But for her...
She was the only one near whom it didn't matter.
So for her, he unwrapped his own scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around the snowman's, pulling it up slightly to cover the leather-band mouth as well with a smile, then stepped back again.
It wasn't as pretty as it was before.
Cough-drop-eyes were dark and not even nearly as cute as the earring ones and the scarf somehow gave the snowman a somewhat cryptic look.
But he felt it was meant to be that way.
Tucking the scarf beneath his cloak and let it rest on his heart, cool against his aching chest, he pocketed the earrings and walked away, giving his bench one last glance.
Today he lost something. Something beautiful.
Next time he brought a cup of hot chocolate to keep grim thoughts away as he approached the old swingset.
Even from afar he noticed the snowman was still here.
But something was different about it.
He walked up to it.
What he saw made him smile.
Apparently some kid appropriated one of the cough drops, because there were not two dark spots anymore. But what amused him more was that someone replaced the missing eye with another candy, this one deep red.
Looking into the snowman's mismatched eyes he thought about his own, one dark and one red and couldn't help but wonder if it was her who fixed it like that.
It was unlikely, though, at least in his opinion.
The another thing that made him smile was that someone pulled the scarf hiding the snowman's mouth down and fixed the small frown into a small smile.
He bit his lip.
Was it her?
It was always her who said he should stop hiding his face, if for nothing else but to show his smile.
But is could also be the same kid who took the drop. Everyone wants to know what secret lies beneath the scarf and he could imagine someone was disappointed to see the frown and fixed it into a smile.
…
Even though this all was true enough, he wanted to hope.
So he reched out, making the small smile the biggest grin he could make with a single strap of leather, and pulled the scarf back up.
Stepping back and sipping his hot chocolate, he felt like he was done here.
He walked away, paying no attention to the pair on his favourite bench that eyed him curiously.
Once more, he found himself facing the snow-covered playground.
He sat on his bench, just staring at the snowman that was all that was left of something he once had.
And maybe he still had it.
Because now it was sure.
It was her.
The snowman just few steps away from him had yet another eyes and another scarf, and the lilies in its hand were fresh this time.
Those eyes were green and the scarf was red.
Green eyes just like hers and scarf in the hue of red she loved.
And, of course, there were the lilies.
And the paper he held in his hand.
It was a mere copy of a document, but it said what it was meant to say.
It was a result of an admission exam.
In the very bottom, there was the crucial word: Accepted.
And in the heading, there was her name.
What he kept glancing at, though, was the single word on the back side of the paper.
Goodbye.
There was a lump in his throat and he couldn't move.
He couldn't really face it.
It meant that she was visiting the snowman as well, because he found it hidden in an envelope in the scarf.
And he knew it was addressed to him, because of the hastily scribbled „To Old Man" on it.
It also meant he wasn't going to see her anymore. Not even through the snowman.
Because she was just accepted to a university on the other side of the country.
He looked down at the paper.
She passed swimmingly, just a point or two away from transcendence.
He wouldn't expect anything less.
He always knew she was perfect, smart as well as beautiful. That's what made her look so unreachable for him in the first place.
As they met here, day by day, week by week, year by year, it always felt like something unearthly to him, like a mere dream.
Nothing real could be so perfect, could it?
There was nothing like simple understanding between two lost people in reality, right?
No one with eyes like this could ever find a friend in someone like him.
A loner like him could never find a friend that dear.
There was nothing like unconditional friendship.
Friendship?
Love, maybe.
Maybe even love.
It can end here, if you want it to, or this can happen, if you want it sweet...
„Hey, old man."
He didn't move.
„If you sit there like this for long, you'll catch cold."
His mind went blank.
There was nothing like simple connection.
In reality, people never felt like they were just struck by a lightning just when hearing someone's voice.
Moreover, in reality, people mostly never heard the voice in the first place.
But when he forced his eyes to rise, he saw her.
Pale face, emerald eyes, red scarf identical to the one on the snowman.
It was her.
But she couldn't be real, could she?
Maybe he passed out from cold.
Maybe he froze to death and this was just... what came after.
It could be anything but reality.
But she was smiling.
And he couldn't do anything else but what he did, silently brushing the snow off the bench beside him.
She took the hint as she always did, and sat down beside him.
They sat for a while, side by side, both looking at the snowman.
„I missed you," she said softly.
He missed her too.
„Your laconicism the most," she added with a grin.
He scoffed quietly.
After a while, she glanced at him and then at the paper lying forgotten in his lap.
„Did you read it?" she asked.
„I did," he answered, his gloved hand disappearing into his pocket, fishing out a pair of earrings, handing them out to her. „Those are yours."
She smiled. „You can keep them if you want to."
He kept his hand outstretched. „They are yours."
Frowning just slightly, she took them, immediately putting them on.
Another while of silence came.
„Why didn't you come?" she asked finally.
He looked at his hands before bringing them together, intertwining his fingers.
This was a question he asked himself every day as he walked towards the swingset.
„I came," he said finally, elusive as always. „I was just late."
She snorted, but not angrily. Not too angrily, at least.
The next time it was he who broke the silence.
„Congratulations."
She swallowed. „Yeah, thanks."
„Medicine... that's what you always wanted to do, right?"
She nodded.
He turned to her finally.
„Why did you come?"
She smiled slightly, this time it seemed a tad sad. „I hoped to see the snowman one last time. I'm leaving tomorrow."
He looked back at the pile of slowly melting snow. „I see."
„I hoped to see that smile for the last time."
He closed his eyes.
She sighed. „I guess it's foolish of me to ask for a smile when saying goodbye."
„It's not foolish," he replied quickly. „Asking for a smile as the last gift is not foolish..." he glanced at her. „When it's so rare to see it these times."
She smiled slightly. „So you think the snowman will give it to me?"
He smiled as well. „I think he would give you anything you'd want."
She closed her eyes with a dreamy smile. „Like... pancakes?"
He chuckled slightly. „Like pancakes."
They looked at each other.
She reached out and pulled his scarf down to reveal his face and he let her, not letting the smile to slide off his face.
She pouted slightly.
He grinned. „What?"
„You didn't shave."
He pouted as well. „I was busy."
She rolled her eyes and sat back, looking back at the snowman.
He didn't pull the scarf back up, his eyes fixed at her.
She glanced at him and smiled a bit.
„Don't stare."
He smiled, too. „I don't stare."
„Yes you do."
„No I don't."
„Yes. You. Do."
„I observe."
She glanced at him and rolled her eyes again.
He leant in and kissed her, just like that, sitting back again.
She didn't react anyhow.
Then she leant over and kissed him back, sitting back again.
There was silence, just the wind howled as it blew through the abandoned park.
„I'm leaving by train tomorrow at nine o'clock," she said off-handedly, bud he heard the tiniest bit of nervousness in her voice.
He hummed.
She glanced to the side at him. „Do you want to leave with me?"
He didn't answer, just dipped into his cloak and pulled out a black scarf, handing it to her.
She took it, staring at the smooth wool in her hands for a while.
She looked up and their eyes met.
He was smiling.
She smiled too.
They kissed.
She left.
He stayed, staring at the snowman for a really long time.