Winter's Farewell

​🇨​​🇭​​🇦​​🇵​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷 𝟐𝟏₂₁

The weekend arrived with a crispness that hinted at the approaching winter. Claire woke early, the pale light of dawn spilling through her curtains. She lay in bed for a while, watching the soft glow play across the ceiling, before finally dragging herself up.

It was Saturday, which meant her family would likely be bustling around the house. After grabbing a quick breakfast—a slice of toast with butter—she decided to head out for a walk. The idea of fresh air and movement appealed to her more than lingering indoors, where the quiet would give her too much room to think.

She pulled on a warm coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and stepped outside. The air was sharp and cool against her face, carrying the faint smell of damp earth and fallen leaves. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional bark of a dog or the sound of a car passing by. Claire shoved her hands deep into her pockets and began walking without a clear destination in mind.

As she moved through the neighborhood, her feet led her to familiar places—the park where she and Leevi used to sit for hours, the coffee shop they had discovered together, even the small bookstore where they had once spent an entire rainy afternoon browsing shelves and debating over which titles were worth buying.

Each spot felt like a ghost of a memory, vivid but intangible, as if she could see the outlines of their younger selves lingering there.

The bookstore was her last stop. She hesitated in front of the door for a moment, unsure if she wanted to step inside. It had been months since she'd visited, and the thought of being surrounded by books—something she usually loved—felt bittersweet. But the warmth radiating through the large glass windows drew her in, and before she could second-guess herself, she pushed the door open.

A small bell chimed overhead, and the familiar scent of paper and coffee greeted her. The store was quiet, with only a handful of customers browsing. Claire wandered through the aisles aimlessly, her fingers grazing the spines of books as she passed.

In the back corner, near the poetry section, she spotted an old man hunched over a table, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose as he scribbled in a notebook. Something about the scene made her pause, a flicker of recognition sparking in her mind.

"Mr. Dalton?" she asked tentatively.

The man looked up, squinting slightly before his face broke into a warm smile. "Claire! Well, I'll be. It's been years, hasn't it?"

Claire laughed softly, taking a seat across from him. "It has. I didn't think I'd run into you here."

Mr. Dalton had been her high school English teacher, the one who had introduced her to the joys of poetry and literary analysis. He had a way of making words come alive, and Claire had spent many afternoons in his classroom, poring over texts and discussing their meanings.

"I come here often," he said, gesturing to the notebook in front of him. "A good cup of coffee and a quiet corner are all I need to keep the ideas flowing."

They spent the next half hour catching up, talking about everything from books to life changes. Claire found herself opening up more than she expected, sharing snippets of her recent struggles without delving too deeply.

"Relationships, whether they're friendships or something more, aren't always straightforward," Mr. Dalton said thoughtfully, after Claire mentioned her difficulty connecting with someone close to her. "Sometimes, the hardest part is accepting that people grow and change in ways we can't control."

His words resonated deeply, and Claire nodded, feeling a little lighter for having shared her thoughts.

By the time she left the bookstore, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, its pale warmth softening the chill. She decided to stop by the café on the corner, a cozy spot with mismatched furniture and the best pastries in the area.

Inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee beans was intoxicating. Claire ordered a cappuccino and a slice of apple tart, then settled into a seat by the window. She pulled out her journal—a habit she had started in college but had let fall by the wayside in recent months.

Flipping to a blank page, she let the pen flow freely, writing about everything that had been on her mind. Leevi. The distance she felt between them. Her fears of losing someone who had once been such an integral part of her life.

"How do you fight for something when the other person seems unwilling to meet you halfway?" she wrote.

The words felt raw and honest, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of clarity. Maybe she couldn't fix things with Leevi, but she could at least try to understand where they were now, even if it wasn't where she wanted them to be.

Later that afternoon, Claire returned home to find her younger sister, Sophie, sprawled on the living room floor with a sketchpad.

"Hey, you're back," Sophie said, glancing up briefly before returning her focus to her drawing.

"Yeah," Claire said, slipping off her coat. "What are you working on?"

Blair turned the sketchpad toward her, revealing a half-finished portrait of their mother. The lines were soft but precise, capturing an expression that felt both familiar and deeply comforting.

"That's beautiful," Claire said sincerely.

Blair shrugged, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "It's not done yet. What about you? You look... lighter than usual."

Claire laughed, surprised by the observation. "I guess I had a good day. Went for a walk, ran into an old teacher, wrote a little. Nothing major, but it helped."

"Sometimes the small things make the biggest difference," Blair said, her tone wise beyond her years.

Claire smiled, ruffling her sister's hair affectionately before heading to her room.

That evening, as Claire prepared for bed, she found herself staring at her phone again. The urge to text Leevi was strong, but instead of giving in, she opened her journal.

"Maybe we've both changed," she wrote. "And maybe that's okay. But I can't keep chasing after someone who doesn't want to be caught. If Leevi and I are meant to stay in each other's lives, we'll find a way. Until then, I need to focus on myself."

The words felt like a resolution, one that gave her a sense of peace. Closing the journal, she turned off the light and climbed into bed, letting the stillness of the night surround her.

For the first time in a long while, Claire felt like she was moving forward—even if it was just one small step at a time.