1
The day begins like any other day at school; trudging in ankle-deep snow and feeling the crunch beneath your feet. A sombre morning, when the orange streetlights are still on.
Martin is carrying his loaded knapsack full of goodies – class binders, his laptop and lunchbox – when he feels exhausted from all the weight. He finds a bench by the soccer field to relax his knees at, and beside him, there is a girl, her jacket hood covering her face.
He has never seen the girl before, but one glance and he could tell she is quite pretty in a sullen way. Her eyes gaze off somewhere, at the players kicking around the ball.. no, beyond that.
He wonders what she must be like. Probably one of those goth-types who is into death metal music, he could imagine.
There's only one way to find out.
"Hi," he goes, a half-whisper amongst the chatter.
She doesn't budge an inch.
"Hey," he says, louder, and she turns to look at him. She has earbuds in her ears – she takes them out.
".. yes?" she goes.
Martin's looking for some excuse to begin a conversation with her. He notices the mist coming out her mouth. The first thing that comes to mind is: "Chilly day, isn't it? I wish they could open the doors to let us in.."
"Oh – I'm fine outside," she goes. "I don't mind the cold."
She has on a black coat with a dark chartreuse scarf.
"I don't like being cold," Martin says, huddling his arms. "I just can't stand when my cheeks and hands get numb. If it was me, I'd.. I'd be still in bed, cozy under all the blankets. And I'd be watching TV on my phone."
The girl giggles. "That's cute. I like winter's crispness though – makes me feel alive."
"Cool."
The events of the soccer match play out, with David booting the ball a mile high into the air (along with a burst of snow), and everyone else chasing after the ball's trajectory like bees.
"What're you listening to?" Martin asks.
"Music," she says, glancing at the player in her pocket.
"What kind of music?"
"It's nothing that you'd like.." she says.
"Well, I'd like to have a listen anyways – how do I know unless I hear it?"
So reluctantly, she hands him an earbud. What Martin hears is a beautiful, joyeous sound – a woman singing about the birds and the bees who flutter through someone's garden at night, and they'd sing a nightly song, their buzzing and chirping in sweet harmony, a song which bugs the houseowner to no end.
The girl is dazzled, seeing how Martin actually enjoys listening to it.
The next song is about a woman's inner pain, and her struggle to overcome it much like how a warrior fights against an endless tirade of monsters who'd tell her she is worthless, and the warrior's blade would slice through them all because nothing they say is ever true.
"They're wonderful, your songs..!" Martin goes.
".. I'm glad you like them," the girl says, beaming at the cheeks. "To be honest, I was a little scared you'd find it-"
"Weird?"
"Weird, yes." Her eyes frown.
"Why? I mean, not everyone likes the same things, but that doesn't mean it's bad or weird. It's just.. different. You know?"
The girl seems to ruminate over the word 'different.'
Suddenly, the school bell rings, and everyone is journeying inside.
"Hey, what's your name? I'm Martin-"
But the girl hurriedly leaves, and all Martin can do is watch her departing form. Then he too heads inside where it's warm.