The rattling wind quakes the aged window, threatening to invite winter’s storm inside.  Yet Dahyun remains unbothered by the howls and heckles of the sky’s bluff, she presses her fingers against the pane of glass and sighs. It fogs beneath her touch, framing the outlines of her prints. The storm rages on whilst the others are tightly tucked, cocooned in dreams and sleep. Unlike most nights, Dahyun is awake and alone waiting for first snow. She forfeits the rest that her body craves, to satisfy the inner soul that is deprived of home. Home, not their dormitory, but her real home with her mother and father. Dahyun misses her house, her room, her days long ago of bickering and squabbling with her brother. Dahyun misses home more than anything.

All that remains of those days are a scattered album of photos and fading memories. Childish as it may seem, but waiting for first snow is one of the only things she has left.  One of many rituals that she clings onto, to stay grounded, to stay sane. These few days have been numbing, she’s been operating by duty not heart.  She needs a taste of home. She fights sleep, but it’s a losing battle. Her eyes grow dreary, as the ticking of the clock tips over midnight. She yawns nearing defeat, but then sparkles of white glitter grace the sky and it lights her flickering strength. It’s here at last.

Carefully Dahyun tiptoes her way to the corridor, but it creaks beneath her sliding slippers. Dahyun mutters curses under her breath, as she hears the stirs and fusses of her members. Silently she prays that they don’t rise, and by some miracle she manages to slip by unnoticed. She succeeds in passing the first obstacle, but the darn kitchen lights are on. It’s Momo. She’s fallen asleep at the table dining on her favourite selection of ramen. The sight brings a soft smile that floats at the edges of Dahyun’s lips, with such she hesitates to leave. Dahyun instead approaches the table, and pauses just to admire the calm of Momo’s resting face. Even asleep, Momo’s her haunting anchor to all that is. She’s her last saving grace. Of everything that Dahyun feels for Momo, there’s also a part of her that desperately wants to cut her off. To alert the red and blue faded lights of indigo to come and save her. She leans in to kiss Momo’s cheek, but pulls away just before her lips make contact. “I’m sorry that I always hurt you,” Dahyun apologies and falls away.

“I hope you know… I love you too,” Dahyun mutters weakly behind the closing door.

Outside on the street, the now quiet and barren street, a sea of white colours the asphalt. A never-ending desert of frost stretches beyond the distant horizons, and brings forth the joy of her youth. Her steps are light, buoyancy almost but even still the snow crunches beneath her feet. Though not in same the way that autumn’s leaves wilt and fall.  The powdery ice accommodates her. It tumbles in with her every step, as if it were welcoming her home. 

The disparaging coldness, the descending snowflakes and the eeriness