The forest silenced itself in his presence, the awesome crunch of his booted feet through the snow an awe-inspiring symphony the likes of which its inhabitants had never before heard. Its brooding darkness in turn silenced him, reverence clamping its gentle hand over his mouth as he walked aimlessly through orderly groves. As the first fingers of sunlight licked the night sky, the corners of his lips turned up slightly; and so the crimson sun rose, once again there to present to him the world around in its innocent glow.
He closed his eyes, trusting his feet to remember the way home, and his mind to recall his reason for going there. That silent night, where his mother had lain down for the final time, and he’d blinked through fiery tears to see that crimson sun, its warm glow the only constant in his life. And so he had returned, along the same route, every year since that night. Snow crunched on, and the lens of his tears caught the light as the sun struck fire from the snow-capped mountains that framed his mother’s small cabin.
Jane’s hands had closed around his, and he’d looked into her eyes for that eternal second, that finite moment that he needed to realize that he loved her. She put that moment to use telling him that she no longer wanted him in her life. He smiled, because he knew that his reality was a mere manifestation of his dreams. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, and returned to him.
He remembered that day so long before, when, as young lovers, they had shyly stood before each other and pretended to be interested in anything but. Her smile as he looked up from the quiet solace of the ground was the most captivating thing he’d ever seen. His feet were rooted to the spot, and he stared at her in awe for a moment before realizing that cultural norms dictated that he smile back, and he did so.
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