My heart hurts.

The pain is unbearable. To be told that my little sister died is like cutting me with a knife. To realize that she’s not around is practically stabbing me. To finally acknowledge that she left the world completely… I’m nothing but a walking corpse. An empty corpse.

I feel my eyes prick with tears once more as I stand in front of her grave. A strong breeze passes through, but I stay still. I don’t even flinch. I don’t feel anything besides the pang in my chest. It hurts. I feel tears rapidly trailing down my cheeks. It’s cold yet it still doesn’t snow here. I close my eyes, my lip quivering.

“The snow you’ve been so curious about doesn’t fall because you’re not in this world to experience it.” I whisper. I finally break down, letting everything out. My sobs are endless and I cry up an ocean. I collapse onto the cold ground, losing strength. I regret coming back here so late. I regret not answering the phone calls when auntie called. I regret leaving her when we were going through the hardest time of our lives. I miss her so much and it’s only been a day.

A day… I sniff, trying—and failing—to wipe the tears away. It’s only been a day and I’m a wreck. What am I supposed to do? Everything in this world is now hopeless. She’s gone. She left.

I want my little sister back.

~O~O~

I sit across from her tombstone, legs crossed. I finally calmed down. It’s slightly dark outside now. I guess I stayed here the whole day. I cried most of the day… I shake my head. I refuse to look at my watch, though. I want time to be endless when I’m with my sister. There’s no limit with her.

“You never let me finish my story.” I say, speaking to no one in particular. No, wait. I’m talking to my little sister. I rock back and forth, looking straight at the tombstone as if I was looking into her eager eyes. “So, I remember you asking what happened after I caught my first snowflake?”

“So, now what?” I ask her.

“What do you mean? You caught your first snowflake!” She says, happy.

“Yeah,” I trail off, looking at the palm of my hand. “But it disappeared.”

She laughs happily. “Of course! I’m making a point.”

I give her a confusing look, raising an eyebrow. “And your point is?”

“There’s always something bitter to ruin something so sweet.” She repeats. “You touch a snowflake and it disappears. When you try to recall or touch your dream, it disappears. They’re the same. I believe snowflakes are the solid proof of dreams.”

I don’t respond as quickly this time, thinking it through. “Does that mean I made someone’s dream disappear just now?” I ask.

She nods eagerly, probably excited that I’m actually interested in her logic.

“Then what about snow itself?” I ask, standing up from the bench. I slosh some snow around with my feet, making it gather into a pile. I bend down and pick it up. I make it into a snowball. “What if the snowflakes that weren’t caught fell to the ground with the rest of the snowflakes? What if I gathered them up like this?” I question, gesturing the snowball towards her. I show her the snowball, putting it right in her face. “Does that mean I gathered a group of people’s dreams and molded them together?”

She reaches up and slowly lowers my hand, just to meet my eyes. She stares at me in awe. She stands up and gently gets the snowball from my hand. “You understand me.” She whispers. She shakes her head quickly then smiles brightly. She raises the snowball in between our faces. “The dreams that you molded together in this simple ball will have all their owners meet.”

I lean my head to the side, intrigued. “You mean the people who have their dreams in this ball will meet.”

“One way or another.” She says, shrugging.

“But when?” I ask, sitting back down on the bench with her.

“Sooner or later.” She simply replies.

We sit in silence for a moment as I stare at the ball of snow in my hand. Abruptly, she snatches the snowball out of my hand and throws it against a tree. “What are you doing?” I ask, alarmed.

“I’m not letting those dreamers meet.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

“What if those dreamers already met seconds before you threw the ball?”

“Then they stay together.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

Screech!

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I sit in silence, letting the cold breeze calm my nerves. “A car suddenly stopped by the park; its’ tires screeching in anger. I remember looking at it, trying to see the insane person behind the wheel.” I chuckle darkly, pausing as if my little sister asked a question. Who was behind the wheel? Did you know him? She would ask with great interest. I sigh. “It wasn’t someone I knew. It was someone she knew.”

And how did you figure that out? My little sister would probably question.

“Because I heard her sharp and frightened gasp. She knew this person. Apparently, it was her dad.”

He jumped out of the car, slamming the door furiously. The loud bam was echoing throughout the quiet park. “What the hell are you doing?” He screams, his gruff voice almost the sound of a demon. He’s really mad.

The girl suddenly jumps up from the bench. I notice her hands shaking. Innocently, I hold her hand. She looks down at me in shock. I simply smile and give her a reassuring squeeze. As the guy nears, she frantically pushes my hands away. Her eyes… They were scared. Any signs of her genuine, innocent happiness are gone. It’s almost like she finally came back to reality. And it’s crashing back down on her. Hard.

I stand up, concerned. “What’s wrong? Do you know this guy?”

“My father…” She mumbles.

Before I can respond, her dad marches right up to us. Like a striking vile snake, he slaps her across her pale face. My eyes wide as I spot a few red splotches stain the white snow. She falls down to the ground, holding her face. I stand still, shocked at the scene happening right in front of me.

“I’m very disappointed at you, Clara.” Her father growls out.

I my head to the side. So, her name is Clara. In an instant, her father snaps his head towards me. I jump, a little frightened. I nervously look down at Clara. She hasn’t gotten up. Is she crying again? Her father levels his face with mine, making sure he holds my eyes. “Stay away from my daughter.” He hisses.

With one last glare, he steps away and forcefully grabs Clara’s arm. As he drags her away, she looks back at me one last time.