It was cold out, and dusk was approaching on a paintbrush of grays. The tread of my boots crunched in the snow, leaving patterns in my path. A few people were walking down the sidewalk down the street, but it was otherwise deserted, my only company the blurry streetlights, like fairies in the mist. I allowed my bare finger to trace over a chain link fence, almost snagging on the tenacious frost. My breath mingled with the air like smoke, as though I had a cigarette that I was so craving. My toes scuffed the icy sidewalks, and I felt glum. Maybe it was the isolation of cold weather, or the recent loss of my job, but I just had a feeling of imminent bad luck.

I took a sip of the cold, sweet coffee in my hand and grimaced at the sour taste, tossing it into a nearby snow bank. Sighing, I looked up, quickly lost in the spiraling snowflakes, as though I was looking into a portal into a faraway world. In the distance I could hear the thump of a rap song, the bass cranked full. I didn't mind rap, but P--- hated it. She liked it when I told her the hidden inspiration behind all those 90’s grunge songs she listened to while she wrote in her notebook, and I always felt so essential to the world when she’d look at me with a gaze of immersion, elated by the stories that had eluded her so long. Grinning, I brought myself back to earth, a little dizzy from the dancing sky.

It was dark now, but the moon reflected off the ground, illuminating the small town. I approached my house, knocking my boots off on the wooden stairs before opening the door, having to budge it slightly since it dragged on the ground.

The lights were all out in the kitchen, and I flipped the switch to find it empty, dirty dishes on the table. I could hear a loud, electronic music from the living room, and I slowly removed my boots.For an unnameable reason I suddenly felt like a stranger slinking through someone else’s kitchen, past their home-done blue and white tile, and refrigerator covered in magnets from numerous diners. The sinking feeling was accented by a yell from the living room, followed by a familiar enthusiastic cackle.

The living room was dark, but an artificial glow from the TV illuminated an uneasy sight. P-- was sitting in her usual spot on the red couch with a stain on one of the arms, her face alive with laughter, clutching a white Xbox paddle in her hands, thrusting it around like a child trying to win the game. She sat cross-legged, a packet of Skittles in her lap, occasionally spilling a few to the floor and around her red toe nails.

From my recliner, an old green one that my stepfather had occupied during his life, came a loud guffaw, and the click of experienced fingers against my Xbox paddle. There were Twizzlers all over the carpet, skittles mashed into the floor, and the loud sounds from the racing game were making me dizzy. I recognized R--’s long hair showing over the top of my recliner, and as he turned to me casually, I saw a glimpse of a smug, devious shine in his wide eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, going back to the game on the screen. P-- looked up, laughter still in her eyes, and faint crows feet at her eyes, only making her look prettier.

“Hey, babe.” The sentence seemed to pop out of her mouth, like bubblegum. There was a sugary smell in the air, with an almost tangy undertone, and I could feel my stomach begin to sink. P--’s cheeks were flushed, and the roots of her hair were slightly damp, as though she’d gotten out of the shower not too long ago. She was wearing a black pair of shorts and one of my t-shirts, swallowing her small frame in its folds.

As I looked back and forth between my best friend and the love of my life, I felt like I was a ghost in a dream, and I wondered if the twisters of snow had in fact swallowed me whole. The tips of my hair were wet, and a drop fell down my cheek, tickling the side of my nostril. I could feel it in my spine. I had been so ignorant in the beautiful haze of the blizzard, I hadn't realized it was whisking my reality away.