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coldest winter » pentatonix

Coldest Winter » Pentatonix

❝ Memories made in the coldest winter ❞

It was the late-evening hours of Christmas Eve. The town was illuminated with thousands of Christmas lights and stunning traditional decorations in the streets and squares, spreading a contagious joy and excitement. The street was filled with people going hell for leather getting their last minute shopping done and to get home to their families, friends and special someones. Well... except for one person.

Elora, who had once been the one to sing Christmas songs and tell jokes at dinner, the girl who got excited to put the star on top of the Christmas tree always wearing her favourite sweater, was now the one clock-watching and hoping for the day to get over. All those good moments is now water under the bridge for her.

It was no secret it has been 2 years since what happened, but that doesn't stop people from talking about her change and how she is a shell of a girl. Even her mere presence now put a pressure on everyone else.

The slip of her feet on the icy sidewalk pulled her attention back earthward as her instinct to stay upright kicked in, piloting her mind to the present. Muttering an obscenity under her breath, she strode towards her destination.

The wintry wind hollered and tufts of soft snow billowed through the naked trees, causing her to clutch the coat tighter around her body. The gloomy grey clouds swirled overhead almost darkening the cheerful panorama, a perfect reflection of her grey state of mind.

The illuminated sign on front of the building appears and she slowly proceeded down the icy road. Upon reaching the door, she placed her gloved hand on the handle and pushed it open. Immediately, she was hit by the seasonal jingle that was being played on the jukebox. Instantly, her mouth twitched down into a frown.

Her frown only deepened at the sight of the string of white lights draped across the pub's windows, like a thread of pearls around a girl's neck. A wreath adorned the top of fireplace where oak logs burned fiercely and a small Christmas tree covered in tinsel and tiny ball ornaments sat in one corner.

The pub was nearly empty except for one young bartender cleaning the counter, and for an inebriated man who looked older than his true age. Probably, the years of drinking having robbed him of his youth.

Sliding onto the nearest bar stool, she shrugged the coat off her shoulders and set it on the counter. "Excuse me,"
She says to the only bartender, "I'd like a vodka soda."

A moment later, the bartender set down a glass with clear liquid, the ice cubes clinking against the sides and a single lime slice floating on top. She took a blatant sip and pursed her lips into a thin line.

Out the corner of her eyes, she caught the bartender glancing at her. His expression was hard to read. As if a cross between amazement and skepticism with an atom of embarrassment thrown in.

Looking down at her drink, she carefully swirled the glass that the liquid swayed from one side of rim to the other, and listened to ice cubes jingling. "Is there something on my face?" She raised one eyebrow at him. He turned his head to the side to avert his gaze, but the sudden rosy tiny of his cheeks gave him away. All of a sudden, he felt awkward as having been caught red handed. "You were staring at me." She continued, matter-of-factly.

"I... I'm sorry I-I didn't mean to," He stammered. Well, she could definitely tell he hadn't meant to do it by his flushed cheeks and the look of mild shock on his pale face. "It's just..." He gestured to something over her head and she turned her head up to look. There was a sprig of mistletoe on the mantel just over her head. She let out an annoyed groan while the bartender grinned in wonder.