Wintertime

The snow that swirled outside stuck to the window. She glared at the soggy white flakes and the grey sky beyond. It was their first day away from London and what a miserable day.

Snuggling deeper into the quilts, she turned to face the wall. The pillow beside hers was dented, rumpled from his uneasy sleep. She could only hope that it had been sleep, that he hadn't spent the entire night tossing and turning, staring blankly at the ceiling. There had been too much of that already.

In the first months after it happened, she had heard him walking the halls of the house at all hours of the night. Too many times, she had fallen asleep to the sound of his pacing and woken to it again in the morning, certain that he had never rested.

That had passed as the fall lengthened the shadows and shortened the days. A some point in those months, she had brought him to her bed. He had stayed with her through the nights. His sleep, when it came, was restless and full of difficult dreams. She had held him through the nightmares and calmed him when he woke. Eventually, the dreams had become more infrequent; these days she watched his face relax into dreamless sleep most evenings.

Unable to lie in bed any longer, she slung her feet over the side of the bed onto the thick rug. Pulling the handmade blue quilt around her shoulders, she walked to the window. Staring out into the featureless grey, she was struck by how quiet it was away from the city. For a moment she stood and listened to the pure silence. There was something almost frightening about the lack of sound, the lack of colour, as though all life had been sucked out of the world around her.

Then life came. She could hear the faint whistle of the wind and the muted crackle of the fire. She noticed small signs of animals moving through the country-side. A rabbit hopped across the lawn and into the hedgerow, its white coat blending with the snow.

"You look like a little cub," his voice came, "all mussed from hibernation."

She spun around. He was in the doorway, fully dressed, with snow melting in his hair. He crossed the room to her.

"Actually, you look like a bright little bird, with your blue blanket and your blue hair. A splash of life in the grey winter."

She smiled up at him hesitantly.

"My lucky splash of life. You brought me back to life, you know that? You held me to this world when I thought I'd die from the loss, and you brought me back from the edge with your big heart and bright smile. I owe you my life."

She wrapped her arms around him, folding him into the blanket with her.

"I owe you my life." He leaned down until their noses touched. Just before his chilled lips touched hers he whispered, "And I give you my heart.