In the grand scheme of things we are sitting on a giant sphere of ice swirling in space, cold steam flowing off, speed slowing by degrees.
In the less grand scheme of things we are sitting next to one another in your front room, holding hands, because I have just asked you the question.
We have done well to ignore the outside world these last few weeks. We have remained calm while the heated clamouring and desperation around us hastened the freeze.
Hoarding by the hordes; nature busy snow-furring and rime-coating; birds dropping from the skies; the world turning eyeball white; the air full of a trillion last gasped goodbyes...
We play at hibernation, pretending that when the Great Thaw comes and we drip back into consciousness, shaking ourselves warm like bears ready for spring, we will carry on laughing, working, sleeping, marrying as if only a second has passed.
...forests crisped, gas guzzled, houses cracking, windows shattering, frost patterns creeping across sleeping faces, and the slowing of breath by degrees...
My nerves puff out in cold spats as I wait for your answer. You laugh and I do too – the in-breaths grazing our throats. You hiss yesss, the suspiration crystallising and dropping into hundreds of diamond chips.
...the Sun turning from blazing to blasé; kids fed up of forever winters; cold searing their skins hotter than hell. The last minute to do something long gone...
After the promised melts, after our heart-beats retune, after we crack free, preserved and perfect from icy casts, I will withdraw the box from my pocket, remove the engagement ring from its cushion and slip it on your warming finger. And you will laugh and say again that I leave everything to the last minute.
First published online by Retreat West in March 2022.
Sharon loves almond croissants but shudders at pretzels. Her short stories and flash have been published in Fictive Dream, Bath Anthology and The Phare. She's flies through Bluesky @sharon54.bsky.social.
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