It Was Winter Again.

It was winter again. The clouds were a dingy white, the snow a dull gray, and Mitchell’s eyes a tired pale blue. The only thing keeping them open was a hope that he didn’t quite understand. The instinctual optimism he had been “blessed” with. Though his hope was persistent, the truth was inevitable. She was gone.

The thought sent a chill down his spine as he sat in his yard, camera in hand and inspiration rung as dry as his winter lips. He sighed and lay back on the snow. His navy pea coat crunched against it. He stared up at the sky. It looked… suicidal. Not quite dead, but it would have rather been dead instead of watching Mitchell lie in self-pity. He couldn’t blame it. But it had a job to do, as miserable as it was.

Mitchell picked himself up, ignoring the snow along the back of his coat and went back inside, defeated and gulled. He hung his jacket in the foyer and walked towards his room. “Mitchell!” someone shouted from the kitchen. He averted his path and followed the voice.

The kitchen smelled warm and sweet. The effect was only intensified by his grandma’s face. The warmest, sweetest thing Mitchell had ever seen and the possible genetic reason for the pre-described hope. “You must be frigid! You’ve been out there for hours,” his grandma’s concern show strong through the fragile wrinkles on her face.

“Frostbite is for pansies, plus I was busy taking pictures. Didn’t even notice the cold,” he smiled at her charismatically.

“Well pansy or not, I made you some hot chocolate,” she handed him a hospice mug with a spoon.

“Thanks, Grandma,” he took the steaming mug and let it thaw his fingertips. He went to his room and placed the mug on his desk. He sat down at the computer and checked his mail.

Flooded as always. The messages seemed to be all the same. “Mitchell! Make more videos.” “We haven’t seen you in FOREVER!” “I miss you, Mitchell.”

Mitchell sat back in his chair. His lip twitched. He sat up quickly with a burst on energy. He grabbed his camera from his book shelf and his tripod from the corner. He placed a backdrop against his wall. Winter white seemed fitting. He pulled his chair in front of the camera and focused it till he was clear. He turned on the camera. The light came on and he froze.

“You’re gone,” he sputtered out. “I mean, you’re not dead. You’re just not here. Not in my arms. Not where you belong. You’re gone. And I’ve thought about it, you know. What would it take to have you here? To bring you back? But the truth is, I have no idea. While I could be rash, I could shout my… adoration from Ohio’s tallest hill, but I don’t think it would work. Or I could be subtle and quietly hope for you to come back, but I don’t think it would work. So why would I try?”

Mitchell pulled his hair away from his face.

“So consider this an attempt to… say something. To speak to you, because let’s face it… I’m too cowardly to do this on your doorstep. The next move is yours.”

Mitchell turned the camera off and quickly plugged the camera into his computer. He didn’t bother to edit. Straight to YouTube. Title: The Winter Diaries Part 1.