Hey, Little Snowflake!

We were like snowflakes; that's what they used say, but I felt that he was more of a snowflake than I – beautiful in his own unique way.

I could have lied and told her I was going to meet someone else, but I didn't; I told her I was meeting him, and from the way the sparkle in her eyes dimmed that day, I knew that she knew.

Bracing myself against the cold, I pulled my fur hood as far over my face as was possible; he had told me to stay hidden. While I forced my way through the crowds, ever expecting to be stopped and made pose, my thoughts lingered on her.

I knew that she knew, and I had convinced myself that she knew that I knew. I guess I thought that knowing made things easier – less fucked up. By now, I had learned to accept that it was old habits that were probably keeping us together.

The crowds weakened as I left the main streets, and turning into the park, that familiar tingle of excitement and relief overcame me. Looking over my shoulder, the cityscape had disappeared within the fog; it felt like leaving my life at the gate of the park, ready to collect on the way home.

I stepped onto the bridge, my feet crunching as I crossed through the thick snow. I saw his silhouette lean against the rails, then shift upright as he saw me. I could just about conceal the smile that I knew mirrored his.

There were no time for words or greetings, every moment was precious in this lie. When his hands grabbed mine, warming them instantly, our frozen lips met in a heating passion.

And beneath the street lamp, a heavy snow concealing our sins, we kissed our troubles away. 

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