Barstool Condolences Pt.8

By the time he had heard the noise - he had been walking for what felt like hours. And it had to have been. The sun had set and the wind had begun howling, picking up the loose snow and casting it into the air like a holiday ticker-tape parade, thrown just for him. His cheeks were raw, covered in the tears that had frozen against his bare skin, his toes were numb, curled at the front of his boots, huddled together, trying to squeeze out any remaining heat. The cold had worked through his hat, into his mind. It was now as vacant as the air that was swirling around him - hollow and emotionless. Cold.

He didn't know how he had ended up here. Walking along the path suspended above the waterfront. It wasn't a place that had brought forth happy memories. The last time he had wandered down to this part of the city was with her by his side - long ago, arms interlocked, smiles on their faces. When he was happy. She was happy. They were happy. Now it was just him, walking over the packed down snow from the couples that had come before him. He could make out the different shoe sizes - how the woman walked closer to the man, snuggled up against him for warmth. What he left behind was nothing special, barely noticeable. Without another pair tracks beside his own, it wouldn't last long - covered up by the snow, a journey taken alone.

At first he couldn't tell if the noise was coming from behind him. It was faint - lost in the gusts of wind that bellowed off the frozen water. Small little crunches that echoed around him. As if the ice out on the lake was cracking under some unknown force. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him. Getting closer. Picking up speed.

Turning around, he squinted, trying to see through the cascading snow, but it was no use. All he could see was the faint funnel of light from the last lamp post down the walkway, like some waining beacon in the storm. It had to be his mind playing a trick on him. The wind was so loud, beating into his ears, making them ring, but when he stopped and listened, he swore he could hear it. Approaching.

Footsteps on the path.

He gave another look over his should and saw the outline of another person, hunkered down, shoulders dropped against the swirling wind, making their way down the path vigorously, undeterred by the lashing snow. He was curious who it could be, out in such weather, clearly determined to continue on to their final destination. Once they left the dim cone of light, they were gone, lost within the grey. He'd just have to wait until they reemerged before him.

It wasn't long until he could make out the figure again - only this time much closer, within a few feet. Whoever it was, they still looked like a shadow, hidden by the wall of white. It wasn't until they were right on top of him that he recognized the color of the jacket and the person's height. It was her. She almost bumped into him before looking up and smiling, cheeks rosy and eyelashes sporting little chunks of ice. Even now, mind barren, body numb with pain, the world around him a complete haze, he was lost in her beauty.

Thats when he noticed the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Looking down, she was standing right next to his footprints, closer than any of the other pairs littering the walkway.

Maybe their journey together wasn't over.