Winter’s snow chilled her hands until rosy pink. She walked the streets alone, gazing at the ashy grey beaten ground beneath her charcoal saude boots; while simultaneously trying to refrain from the negative thoughts which were accumulating in her mind. A tailored khaki coat paired with a monochrome checkered scarf provided a false sense of security, as she fought back the tears which had welled-up in her eyes: not purely the fault of the fierce breeze. Head still burrowed downwards with her chin pointed close to her chest in the hope of feeling invisible, unnoticeable, she clenched onto the warmth of the ceramic containing the coffee that fueled the little energy and enthusiasm which somehow yet barely persisted. The hustle and bustle failed to deter her thoughts from wondering, tracing a path of confusion, bleakness, clouded self-judgment, thinking about the memories of him accompanying her. She stared out the café’s ceiling-high windows to view the gradual falling of snowflakes, still half day dreaming however partially aware of her loss of concentration and self-control. She felt insane. The dusting of snow blanketed the over familiar surroundings, once again taking her back to the previous Wintertime: the Christmas spent in true happiness, a reminder of the gentle kisses imprinted on her cheek as the snow flaked to their feet and a glistened his jet-black hair. Refocused on present time, she glaced down at the shiny sterling silver ring placed on the middle-finger of her left hand. The ring’s heart shape design followed a pattern around the entire metal-work: she wore it habitually for it was symbolic of the love she once believed was everlasting, perhaps indestructible enough to exist for an eternity. How naive she was. Gullible to the point of stupidity. Between the thumb and index finger of her dominate hand, she twisted the ring in circular motions; hesistant whether or not to reluctantly remove the ring which had left heart-shaped indentations on the surface of her skin. In an attempt to be unfazed by her change of relationship status, the ring remained as it was. Her fingers reclasped the beverage which she so evidently needed, before fumbling through her disorganised handbag to find the novel she cradled in times of desperation for seeking a peace of mind. The leather bag (it’s contents included) was alike her mind: scrammbled, dark, with depth but not empty. She opened the book, instantly flipping through it’s pages to continue from the words which she had last read only to finally recieve a text message from him, only to be shattered again…

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