You are home again, in the snow again. Is that the only way you can appear? I have so many memories of summer and its smells, but for you it is always snowing. Winter always has been my favorite season.
When I hear your voice in the living room, I don’t run downstairs. I can’t act like a little kid this time, no matter how much I want to. You need to see how grown up I’ve become, don’t you? I stay in my room, a different room, the one at the top of the stairs, before you get to any others. The door is open, to make sure you can see me.
Your footsteps on the stairs bounce as you bound up them. I feel a chill as you reach the top, and you look surprised to see me there. You hesitate in the doorway, the cold air surrounding you. There is nobody else around at the moment, though my brother is just down the hall. Your eyes seek confirmation that we are alone, before you step inside and pull me to you.
“Hey, how’ve you been?” you ask as your cold fingers touch my breast beneath my shirt. This is what I long for.
“I’m good,” I answer. “I heard you left school.” Your fingers slide down over my body, reaching a cold hand into my pants. Just as it finds it’s way to the sweet spot, a door opens. Your hand withdraws as you reply. “I never wanted to go anyway, but my parents wanted me to.”
You take a step back. I breathe. Cigarettes and beer, silvery and as cold as you reach my nose, but not my tongue. My brother steps out of his room. “Oh. You used to talk about being an engineer.”
One last touch. Your fingers drop something into my pocket. My brother appears next to you and I wish he would go away. He looks at the space between us, which really is not big enough. He looks at me, and I wish he could not see what he has seen. You look back again before heading down to his room, a cigarette in hand. I think you saw it too.