Numb
He stood with her in the falling snow. She told him a story about a woman waiting, waiting… waiting forever. He smiled that she was telling him this, finally letting out something from inside of her, from all the secrets that she was made of. He thought maybe her could unravel her secrets, and spin them into this warm feeling.
She caught snowflakes in her bare hands, and they didn't melt, so he breathed on her fingers. She laughed and ran away, saying that it tickled her. Her cheeks were so pink, in the cold. She kept running, and the snow was the same colour as her skin, as her eyes; he was afraid he would lose her. He ran after her.
But she waited. She stood in the snow, only her dark hair visible in the near blinding white and she held out her hands, full of snow, and told him she didn't feel cold.
She didn't feel much of anything, she said.