Short Stories/Poems

Happy

Standing outside on a street corner waiting for the bus. Your cold hand holding mine. The crisp air around us whistles through the trees. White clouds of your breath escape your lips as you look at a falling snowflake. A single strand of your hair rests on your forehead. We lock eyes and smile. A single snowflake falls on the tip of your tinted nose. Our laughter fills the air.

I still stand on that street corner. I still wait for that bus. I no longer hold your cold hands and watch the snow fall. I no longer wrap my arms into your coat for warmth. I now stand alone in the cold.

Here comes the bus.

Hopefully it doesn't stop today.

-----------------------------------------

I don't want to say what happens, I want to see if anyone can guess it.
Thanks for reading, vote please! ❤💛💚💙💜🖤