These Broken Soundtracks I Put Together

more than winter coats

[Wearing a winter coat won't keep you warm in the winter, if you aren't warm inside... your heart.]

---

She sits on the park bench that's right next to her apartment. She needed to get away. She needed to be alone, but she didn't realize it's nearly a blizzard outside.

The snowflakes cloud her vision as they cluster and cling to her blonde lashes. They freeze her lips as they land on her pink skin. They soak her hair and hands. She forgot gloves. She forgot a hat too. She was rushing.

And now she's breathing - trying to breathe - in deep lungfuls. Snowflakes fly up her nose with each inhale. They melt instantly. But she shakes, still cold.

She wraps her arms around herself like a vice, trying to keep herself together, from shedding with every shake. Her teeth chatter.

The only thing she quickly wound around herself on the way out the door was her winter coat.

It's not doing much good though.

Not in this blizzard.

---

She's eight. It's winter. She's sitting on a park bench wearing nothing but a coat. She was walking with her parents until they started to raise their voices and her mom told her to "go have a seat. We need a minute."

"But what about my minutes with you?" she wanted to ask.

It started snowing. Just tiny, dainty dots twirling in the air. Nothing forceful to distract her parents from their fighting. She wished the weather was enough, though, to make them stop. She wished she was enough.

She used to be.

When she walked into a room her parents would automatically shut their mouths and put on a smile.

But they haven't smiled in quite a while.

So now they are fighting in the park.

And she is wearing nothing but a winter coat. And she is cold. But no one can see. And no one cares.

---

She still sits in the blizzard, not caring if she gets buried by the white fluff.

Her parents and their love disintegrated before her eyes. Her eyes were opened, they were there. She blinked, and they were gone. Well, not gone. But not together. No longer a whole, but two halves. It made her lose all hope of love.

At 16.

At 17.

At 18.

At 19.

Sure, she had some month-long relations. But they all ended just like her parents.

Until 21.

When Philip came along and carried the whole world on his shoulders, in his smile, in the way he made her laugh.

He made her fall madly in love even though she told him she shouldn't. He didn't care. He loved her anyway.

But now she's sitting on a park bench in nothing but a winter coat in a blizzard, because she'd rather face the frigidity of the frost than the warmth of his love.

He got down on one knee.

And she ran.

---

She wants to call her mom, not knowing what to do. She feels as though her life is now in total shambles. Why can't she be normal? Why couldn't she just say yes? She keeps asking herself all these questions.

Her lips turn blue. Her fingers go numb.

She doesn't feel a thing.

---

She checks her phone. An hour has passed. Philip must be getting worried. She closes her eyes and opens them. She closes them again and keeps them closed, finding quaint comfort in the darkness. She wishes to fall asleep.

When she opens her eyes again she finds a pair of brown, leather boots stuck in the snow. And shoved into those two boots are two long legs, leading to Philips' body, then his face.

"Hi. It's a tad cold out," he says sarcastically, the snow whipping around his huddled body. "Do you mind coming inside where it's warm?"

Do I mind? she asks herself. She does. She minds a lot.

Your love terrifies me, she whispers to herself.

His love terrifies her but when he extends his hand, she takes it. And when he takes his winter coat off, giving her a second layer of warmth, she accepts it. She accepts his shoulder too, as she leans on him, walking inside.

They walk to their unit together and he settles her down in front of the electric fireplace.

"Let's get you warm," he says.

She sits criss-cross applesauce in front of the blue flames, watching them.

As she thaws she starts to feel again. Less scared, more comfort. There's a warmth growing in her chest. She panicked. She needed a moment to process, but she knows she can do this.

He sits down next to her, rubbing his hands together.

"Philip."

"Yes?"

"Ask me again."

This time, he's not down on one knee. They are both on their bums, wrapped in blankets like children.

This time, she says yes.