"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief, and unspeakable love"
Washington Irving

-a-

In a single word, his eyes could be described as nothing less than piercing. The first glance presented them with a cold demeanour, but moments later they melted into a pool of sorrow and love. Tears swelled, his nose wrinkling as the sting become too unbearable. I lifted my hand slowly and traced the dark circles under his eyes.

"You're tired, my love?" I ask, placing a light kiss on his jaw. He nods in response.

The snowflakes fall freely, landing on his nose and the tips of his blonde hair.

I motion to the white bed, strictly out of place in the dark fir tree forest.

"Why don't you sleep then? I'll lie with you"

He quickly shakes his head, shouting no.

"But why not, if you're tired, it makes sense to sleep." The snow falls at a faster rate, all the surroundings fading into a blur of white.

"If I sleep, I will leave you forever, I never want to do that." I run my fingers through his hair, and pull him tighter to my frame.

"Nonsense, I want you to sleep, angel, you need it." My lips touch his own, as we lie on the bed, his head sitting in my lap.

His eyes close, and his pink lips remain slightly ajar. I hum to him, and softly sing a lullaby.

What seems like hours later, the snow storm subsides, its residue falling softly. With a blink his eyes open, his piercing blue globes stare up at me full of fear and grief.

"I'll love you, forever." He whispers before disappearing from my arms. The forest: gone, and all that is left is a white abyss.

- -

"Good morning, San Francisco! To start off your morning, here is the latest hit by..."

Without opening my eyes, I frantically throw my arms towards the sound, cringing as my hand comes into contact with the cold metal; a loud thud ending the songs opening verse. I lay back, pulling the covers to my chin and slowly open my eyes to reveal the well lit ceiling above me.

Begrudgingly I sit up, search the night stand for my phone, and determine that at seven o'clock, I am running late for my monthly brunch with my younger sister. The cool air feels like thin shards of ice as I pull the warm quilt off of my body, revealing my legs to the frosty October air. Goose-bumps instantly emerge, orange and purple blemishes forming around my sun-kissed freckles. My feet hit the floor, simultaneously placing themselves into a pair of light blue slip on slippers. I reach for my matching blue robe and hug it tightly around my body before making my way downstairs.

Jasper, my fiancé, and I live in a restored mansion left to us by his great aunt, Emily. We moved into the mansion two years ago, and many of our boxes are still scattered on the floor waiting to be unpacked. I carefully step around them as I make my way into the kitchen. The morning sun spills through the bay window strategically placed above the sink. I reach for the coffee pot, filling it with water and setting it to boil as I find a thermos and reach into the overhead cupboard for a box of strawberry pop tarts. I toast two, placing them in a napkin as I head to the front door.

I pull my robe tighter around my body as I open the front door, leaning down to pick up the daily newspaper. I bite into the first pop tart as my neighbour waves at me from across the street. His hair dark and wavy blows in the wind as he lifts his arm to greet me.

"Good Morning, Alice." He calls out to me.

"Morning." I reply as I quickly turn on my heel, and closing the door loudly behind me.

Heading back into the kitchen, I place the newspaper down onto the wooden dining table and pour the boiled water into the thermos. Careful not to burn my mouth, I sip at the coffee before sitting down to my private breakfast.

I open up the newspaper, removing only the 'Wanted' pages to read through. For the past five years I had owned a small wedding boutique, catered to designing and restoring vintage gowns. The shop was popular in the city, but the time had come for me to move on. I needed to do something else: a career change. With Jasper's business advice and loving time, I sold the boutique turning quite a profit on its revenue.

Few things caught my attention in the pages, the majority of their contents asking for financial lawyers, nurses, and those in retail. Halfway down the third page called to me as I finished my pop tarts. Wanted Theatre Usher: Vibrant personality, eager to work in a cinema. No qualifications necessary. It was perfect, nothing akin to my previous occupations, and something that led nowhere, exactly what I needed. I find a pen and write the details of the ad on a piece of paper, taping it to my thermos before standing to get dressed.

I stumble into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom Jasper and I shared, find a hairbrush and stroke it down my thick, long hair that stayed perfectly straight no matter how often I tried to curl it. Placing the brush down, I flick on the switch of the exhaust fan, turn the hot water on, peel off my pyjamas, and step into the steaming shower. The water caresses my body as I reflect on my dream. Ever since I was a child I had had strange dreams, the majority of them having a symbolic influence on my life to come. "If I sleep, I will leave you forever, I never want to do that." Remembering the words spoken in my dream state send shivers down my arms and spine; the reality of their meaning causing tears to form in my eyes. If anything were ever to happen to him my heart would break. I would break.

I wash my face and thin body before shutting off the water. I reach for my white towel and wrap it around my body before opening the frosted glass door, and stepping onto the cool tiles. I look at myself in the mirror, analysing my small pixie like face. My dark blue eyes stare back at me expectantly as I twirl my damp locks between my index finger and thumb. I promise myself I need a haircut, a form of change. I dry my hair, pinning it back into a bun, and brush my teeth.

After rubbing the towel over my body I change into a pair of grey skinny leg jeans and a dark purple boat neck sweater. I slip my feet into a pair of white ballet flats before fastening my favourite necklace around my neck. The chain was a gift from Jasper, upon it a sliver snowflake, the perfect match to the white paper decorations at our senior high school prom. He gave me the necklace that night, kissing the spot on my chest the charm fell to before making me his own. Six months later he proposed, with the agreement of a long engagement.

Spinning once before the floor length mirror, I approve my outfit before retreating back into the bathroom, a bottle of black mascara in hand. I apply a thin layer of foundation, and add a line of black eyeliner and mascara.

I grab my phone and purse, throwing them quickly into a white bag before running downstairs. Picking up my thermos, the coffee inside still hot, I make my way to the front door. I grab my car keys and lock up the house, venturing to my yellow Mazda. Sitting in the driver's seat I message my younger sister, Cynthia, telling her I am on my way. I also message Jasper, telling him I love him and to be safe, before starting the car and driving to the local cafe, Cynthia and I always meet at.

- -

"You're late." Are the first words I hear as I enter the cafe. I look around the room, my eyes quickly focusing on my sister.

Truthfully we look nothing alike. While my hair is a rich ebony, hers is a pale blonde. She is tall with the perfectly desired curves, where I am barely five foot two with the body of a seven year old girl. Our facial features also differ, I the reflection of our mother with a thin oval face and delicate features slightly of centre, while she is more akin to our grandmother, her face a delicate heart, her features symmetrical and sharp. However, we both have the same large, deep blue eyes.

"Sorry," I mutter as I sit down on the leather couch across from her, "I woke up late."

She nods off my excuse as a smile emerges across her face. She shifts with excitement in her seat, her straight teeth showing as she smiles eagerly.

"Guess what, Ali-cat!" I scowl at the nickname, never being able to shake from my five year old memories.

Before giving me a chance to answer she holds up her left hand, revealing a petite diamond nestled happily between her pinky and middle finger. My mouth falls ajar, as I look at her in amazement. I grab her fingers and carefully evaluate the ring.

"It's gorgeous, Cynthia. When did he propose?" I let go of her hand, and circle my own engagement ring, remembering back to the night Jasper proposed.

It was a few months after graduation, and we had gone with Jasper's parents to vacay at their beach house. Jasper was eighteen, and I was in the last month of being seventeen. We had met for dinner before driving to a small private beach near his parent's house, bringing with us a bottle of champagne and a punnet of strawberries.

We both stripped down into our skin, and ran hand in hand towards the icy water. Those moments in the frozen sea brought us to our innocence. We were raw. No longer were we Alice and Jasper. No longer were we high school graduates seeking a place in the world. In that moment we were humanity, and emotion, and fear, and innocence. Together and nothing.

That night we left the water, curled up in blankets holding each other, feeding each other strawberries. Drinking champagne.

The moon was high above the sea, its reflection creating a mystical feel.

Jasper whispered casually in my ear, "marry me." And we were done. Together. Promised.

That was the beginning of our life together, and now my younger sister was about to begin the same feat.

"He took me to a restaurant, and ordered me the most expensive glass of champagne, I of course asked what we were celebrating, and in the glass was the ring! It was so romantic Ali-Cat..." Her words register in my brain, but to me nothing can compare to the evening Jasper and I had. It wasn't stereotypical, it was us.

"How's Jasper?" I meet her blue eyes with my own and smile.

"He's great. He's doing really well at work, always so busy trying to please his boss, but he always comes home before dinner. He's working on an important case at the moment with two of his co-workers. If they win it, he says the three of them will be promoted." I answer.

"That's great; just don't let him work too hard."

I laugh briefly. "I won't."

"That's good. What are you up to today?" I thought on her words before answering.

"I want to cut my hair, so finding a salon that will take me on such short notice, and then looking into a position at a cinema. I might go and take Jasper and his colleagues some lunch, later."

Her smile falters, "A 'position at a cinema', really Alice? You sold your successful shop, to work at a cinema?" I nod.

She shakes her head, and whispers "Crazy lady".

We talk for a while longer, before deciding to part ways. I hug her goodbye and start my car, quickly programming the GPS system to the cinema's address.

- -

I arrive at the small cinema, taking in its rustic, retro feel. Couches line the entryway, their bright block colours playing up the black walls. The theatre is empty for all but one: a man in his mid forties holding a mop.

"Um, excuse me? Do you work here?" The man looks up at me bewildered, his eyes are a deep brown, and his face is stern, with sarcastic qualities.

"Do I work here? Darlin' I built this cinema, I own it, and I'm now watching it go slowly out of business. What's your price?" He asks me, his voice strong and determined.

"My price? No, no, you're mistaken. I don't want to buy this place." I answer.

"Then what do you want?"

I breathe in and take a few steps forward.

"My name is Alice Brandon, I'm here about the usher position?" I offer him my hand.

"Well, Ms Brandon, can you hold a flashlight?"

"Yes."

"Without making obscene gestures?"

"Yes."

"Do you snore?"

"Um, no."

He takes my hand. "You're hired."

I look at him, bewildered, before giving him my home and mobile numbers, leaving with his promise to ring me in two days with my shift schedule.

From my car I message Jasper, telling him of Cynthia's engagement, and that I am now an underpaid cinema usher. No reply.

I start the car, turn on the radio to a Spanish pop station, and drive the streets looking for an open salon. After ten minutes of driving, I find a small hairdressers nestled tightly between an Adult bookshop, and a store specific to second hand tea cups. Luckily, right in front of the store is a single park.

Swiftly pulling the car into the spot, I turn off the engine, look at my messy bun in the rear view mirror, and exit the car excited for change.

The salon, like the cinema, is unexpected, extremely kitsch. Its walls are a light pink with bright blue and magenta furnishings. The entire left wall is covered from the ceiling to the floor in mirrors. A young girl with peroxide blonde hair and bright green eye make-up stands at the front desk, happily chewing her gum as the fumes of hairspray fill the room. I walk up to her, and press the small bell on the desk – just because.

She looks up, or rather down at me from her tall height. Silently, she appraises my appearance, from my almost natural face, and my messy updo.

"You want a cut?" She asks, her voice nasally, her acrylic nails drumming on the cupboard.

I nod.

"You free now, love?" I look at her nametag: Lauren.

I again nod. "Yes, could you fit me in, Lauren?"

"Sure," she answers, stepping out from behind the counter to reveal her monstrous outfit, "Kate, you've got another one. A cut."

A young woman emerges from the back room, her dark red hair curled and pinned back with a small row of pearls.

"Thanks, Lauren." She answers, as she leads me towards a chair.

"My name is Kate, how much would you like cut from your hair today?" She asks me.

Before I can answer my phone rings, I hold up my finger to her and excuse myself as I place the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I answer, the voice on the other end unknown.

"Ms Brandon?"

"Yes, this is she. How can I help you."

"Ms Brandon, this is Chief Tally from the San Francisco Police Force, I'm sorry to tell you this, but your fiancé, Jasper Whitlock, has been killed." Without listening to the remainder of his words I click the phone shut, wiping the oncoming tears from my eyes.

I look at Kate and smile.

"All of it. I want to go short." I tell her as I remove the pins from my hair, allowing it to fall freely to my mid-back one last time. Kate nods, and begins to wet my hair with a bottle.

She motions a length just below my ears and I nod before she begins to cut.

Strand by strand my ebony locks fall to the ground. I wanted change; a new life is what I received.

With each cut my heart breaks, I mourn for the loss of my lover, my soul-mate, my everything. I let the tears fall, silently and freely, as a rare occurrence happens: a San Francisco snow in October. All the individuals in the shop gather to the window, marvelling at the white blankets beauty. They all croon in amazement at the rare feat, some taking photos. Children gather in the street, dancing in the falling drops of frozen water.

I remain in my seat, my hair falling to the floor, my tears falling down my face; the snow falling to the ground. My life falling apart.

- a -

Dimmie's Note: This story is going to be something different. Something good, but very different. Read & Review, and get ready for Brittany's chapter!