Xiumin's Memory Tree
The Twelve Short Stories of Exomas
The snow slowly begins to fall as I take a breath. That's the beauty of the freezing power that posessed me when you told me that you wanted to leave. It wasn't me. It was you.
It was you that inched the surge of a blizzard into my hands. And now, what was once in my hands, now belongs to the beating veins in my heart.
The small tree we used to decorate together looks a lot more empty than before. Our pictures once used to dangle on the branches of the fir tree, overflowing with happiness. Smiles on both of our faces. Happiness bursting out into laughter. The shutter of the camera clicking to capture these beautiful moments.
Where did they go?
Where did you go...?
I sit here on the couch, staring at the empty soul of this tree. It doesn't look as colorful. It doesn't shine as bright. It doesn't even represent anything anymore.
A fake smile accessorizes my face like a hanging ornament. It will only be there temporarily until the time comes to take it off. Until the season is over.
But while the snow still falls, I will keep it attached to me like a superpower.
It's time to go. I pick up the box beside me and tug my jacket off the couch. The weather is going to be a little chilly.
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