I hate the cold but I really quite enjoy the winter. Seeing my breath float in front of me, snowflakes twirling around the sky, trees iced over with frozen leaves of crystals… It was a different beauty. Something special that couldn’t ever be replicated again. Every day changes and no combination of these things could possibly be recreated.

Stepping out into the cold, I send my breath through the air as I pull my toque over my ears. I had been so busy daydreaming and journaling in the library café that I had completely lost track of time and alas, I was running late for class.

Making my way through campus, I pass my fellow students. Some, like me, scrambling to get to class. Others, trying to bare the cold as they sought warmth and shelter in the safety of the library or student center. And a handful of couples, enjoying the season with smiles spreading their rosy cheeks, bitten by the chill of the wind.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. But I just can’t help but wonder when my partner in life was going to appear and hold my hand through this thing they call winter. I’m sure I would enjoy this season a lot more if I did. And I’m sure I wouldn’t hate the cold as much if I had someone to keep me warm when the wind begins to engulf victims in its cold embrace.

Turning the final corner towards the building that was hosting the class I’m running late for, I managed to hit a patch of ice hidden neatly under the powdery snow. I prepared to fall. Braced myself for the pain of possibly breaking my arm or even worse. Closing my eyes, I waited for the impact.

Which never arrived.

“Are you okay?” the voice said to me. Feeling the safety of not concrete, I began to open my eyes. Was this real? Am I dreaming? Give me a sign.

A sneeze escaped. And I knew, this was no dream. If this was a perfect dream sequence my subconscious laid out, I would say something elegant with an airy voice and we’d kiss and live happily ever after. But no, I sneezed.

“I’m sorry!” I excused myself as the arms who saved me from certain death helped me back on my feet, away from that evil patch of black ice. “Thank you.” I finally mustered out of my voice box.

“Don’t worry about it.” The boy smiled. And of dear, was it a wonderful smile. The kind that you couldn’t help but reply with your own smile. The kind that made your heart flutter whenever you thought about it. The kind that makes your cheeks flush even though they had been frozen by this winter.

“My name is Park Jimin, and yours?” he broke the silence I had created from my lack of reasonable thought and comprehension.

What was my name again?