FROSTBITE ─── jason grace

𝟎𝟎𝟏.

𝟎𝟎𝟏.
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"Charlie get back here this instant!", demanded the playful voice of a man. The soft ringing of laughter could be heard in the Hales household, early that winter morning. Soft hues of sunshine falling onto her face, a girl of thirteen years old came running into the living room, face flushed and cheeks tinted a rosy red from having been running outside.

"Sorry dad! I was with Abi", came the reply. She tugged off one layer of her clothing and made herself warm on the couch. Charlotte, or as everyone called her, 'Charlie' had been having a snowball fight with her best friend Abigail. Getting too engrossed in it, she hadn't bothered to check the time and now found herself under the glare of Brayden Hales.

Her father rolled his eyes, but as he took in her appearance, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Did you win?", he asked.

"Win what?", Charlie frowned.

"The snowball fight of course."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, "What do you think?"

"That's my girl", he chuckled, ruffling up her already wind-blown hair.

This was a fairly normal occurrence at the Hales household. Playful banter, giggles, and soft tunes being played on the piano filling up most of their days. The house was a warm brown and white on the inside. It was nothing spectacular to look at. However, the interior of it, could make even the coldest and harshest of people feel right at home.

There were string lights hung up in the living room even though Christmas hadn't arrived yet. Mismatched, but pretty couches set in a circle around a table and a television. Few paces away, was a small dining table, enough to seat six people. And right next to that was the kitchen where they spent hours and hours trying to make all sorts of new dishes. Photo Frames were hung all over the walls and the whole house had a warm yellow glow suspended in it. To put it simply, there was no place like home for Charlie. Her schoolmates would've made fun of her for thinking this but she honestly couldn't ever imagine leaving this place.

"Can you play it for me again before dinner?", she asked eagerly. Charlie had been trying to learn how to play this piece called Cristofori's Dream. It was a beautiful piece of work, and even though she didn't quite understand it's complete or deeper meaning, she loved listening to her father play it. Ever since he had played it to her for the first time with a smile on his face, she had been determined to learn it and play it for him on his next birthday. And so, she asked him to play it quite often and pretended as if she wasn't interested in learning it, rather only in hearing it. That way, it would be a nice surprise. Though, frustratingly, no matter how hard or frequently she tried, Charlie just couldn't get it right. She always messed it up and there was always something missing in it.

"Sure, why not", and there was that smile again. The same loving one he always wore whenever she asked him to do this. 

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