A/N: Something prompted me to continue with this story, but I can't recall what it was, unfortunately. I suppose I realized that people can move on and that it was cruel, in a strange way, to trap this character in that situation of loss. So, I fixed it. Hooray for acceptance! And this is in the same style as "Too Cold for March" as well. If you can find all the parallels, I'll give you something nice (like words of praise...ha ha). Read, enjoy, and review!!
And the Cold Drifts Away
Time is passing.
I think I always understood that.
That being that minutes become hours and days and weeks and years and sooner or later, it isn't March anymore. And it isn't too cold.
I bought a new watch. Digital again. So that when the battery fails, the numbers will disappear. They won't linger, pretending to be something they're not.
Awake. Alive. Something.
But that's how it should be. Watches stop but time moves on, and I guess I'm more like time in the end.
(Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry?)
It's not March. It's two Junes past March. The weather is warm and the breeze is soft and the sky is so, so blue. I can hear the birds singing, reminding everyone that there's life in this old world yet.
(You never did like March, did you?)
I won't forget you, or this place, or everything you ever meant.
But didn't I already tell you? I bought a new watch. It says that it's 3:19 p.m.
Three hours and nineteen minutes post-meridian.
I smile, quietly and to myself.
(Should I say goodbye? Because what's a word, anyway? Just letters strung together.)
I turn and walk back to my car, glancing at the trees that are so full of life, at the sun that shines so brightly it should burst.
And the cold drifts away.