They called the rundown shop Misery Business because that was all it ever brought them. Despite their best attempts, they still had less than a penny to their name and no less than three pairs of outfits they wore and couldn’t afford to wash. “The mess is mine,” she said, always trying to place the blame on herself. His comforting hand was the only thing that calmed her. On that night, December and cold, there really was nothing left for her. As she breathed in the white snow laid out in lines like soldiers for battle, she was holding onto heaven for life. In all the images she saw flash by her, the clearest were of her youth. Before Misery Business, before her first winter with snow, before… him. She disappeared into wonderland and couldn’t find her way back out.
He woke up the next morning and she didn’t. When the casket closed, he swore he would become clean for her, to make up for everything he used to do. He didn’t want a funeral, rather she wouldn’t have wanted one – she always called them pity parties anyway. As winter turned to spring and the snow began to melt, he wanted something new to move on. So he wrote. “Someone like you,” he wrote. “I could only dream of finding someone like you.”
Days came and went and he wished he could wake up from this bad dream, but he couldn’t. He turned to different things to try and fill the gap she had left in his heart – girls this time, for he swore he would remain clean. And that was just how things went. He never looked at snow the same way again, but he never looked at a girl the same way again either. And he never did grow out of his two-cent style. He died a few years later, on a night where his stomach longed for its own beauty of sorts until it, too, had a broken heart. He always expected that someway, somehow, he would get his happy ending. Even she got hers in a way, dancing with the white rabbit until day became night. But stories don’t always have happy endings and so it is with people. It was a snowy night.