Lost In Snow

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[[*Beep… Beep… Beep…*]]

The sound of your alarm clark pulls you away from a restless sleep and back into reality. Prying yourself away from the bedsheets you look to your right and find the empty space in your bed still empty. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you stare out the window at the snow-covered rooftops of New York City. [[Maybe it's time to get up.]]

Pulling on an old T-shirt you survey the vacant apartment and contemplate calling out to her, knowing full well that she isn't here, [[but you try it anyway.]]

Your voice is rough, ragged and dry. Maybe from all the yelling or the drinking or maybe it was some combination of the two. Not that it matters, there's no one around to hear you anyway. What were you fighting about, you can’t remember now, something stupid probably. Maybe some coffee would [[help the pain in your head.]]

As steam begins to rise from the spout of your coffee machine you open the top cupboard for a mug. Those same two coffee mugs sitting in the same spot they always had every morning. Stopping to admire them for a moment before deciding which to take, [[yours]] or [[hers.]]

After admiring both mugs you here the sound of finished coffee in your machhine. You grab your mug and fill it. Looking around the room you finally settle upon the small table that sits adjacent to the small kitchen and seat yourself in that same [[small chair.]]

For a moment you consider reaching for hers, but you can’t. The sound of the coffee machine pulls you out of your trance. You grab your mug and fill it. Looking around the room you finally settle upon the small table that sits adjacent to the small kitchen and seat yourself in that same [[small chair.]]

Sipping from your mug you stare across the table stacked with piles of scripts that will never become movies and stories that will never be books. Most of them starring her. You can feel the pain in your head begin to subside. Maybe you should take this moment to [[think.]]

Where was she said she was going? [[Her mothers?]] [[A Friends?]] [[Maybe another country]], not that you’d blame her.

No it wasn't her mother, thank god. Your pretty sure it was her friend. The one she met in acting class. Justine? Jessica? Jubilee? Something with a “J”... Maybe you should’ve listened to her stories like she listened to yours. [[You think harder.]]

Rattling your brain, you try and remeamber last night. It was her friend, the one she met in acting class. Justine? Jessica? Jubilee? Something with a “J”... Maybe you should’ve listened to her stories like she listened to yours. [[You think harder.]]

No it wasn't another country, it was her friend, the one she met in acting class. Justine? Jessica? Jubilee? Something with a “J”... Maybe you should’ve listened to her stories like she listened to yours. [[You think harder.]]

All the thinking sends a shot of pain through your head. Picking up your phone you can't bear to call. Instead, you stare blankly at the at her messages reading the last one she sent over and over again, trying to think of [[the right words.]]

[[“Where are you?”]] [[“Why didnt you come home?”]] [[“Are you okay?”]]

You begin to type the words but think better of it. Instead finally you settle on your message. Knowing the answer but so desperately wanting to be wrong you type “Are you okay?” and hit [[send.]]

Deciding on your message you begin to type already knowing the answer but so desperately wanting to be wrong you type “Are you okay?” and hit [[send.]]

To sick to even look at the screen you turn it away and go to place it on the table but just as you do it [[buzzes.]]

Flipping the phone back around you stare at her [[response.]]

“No not really, I spent the night at Jasmine’s, remember her, from that acting class. I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk. Maybe at Steve’s, over coffee like an hour from now.” “Yeah that sounds good, see you then.” [[Send…]]

Jumping from your chair you scramble around your apartment trying to decide what to where. The clothes have to be right. Maybe… [[Casual t-shirt, jeans and a jacket.]] [[Semi formal, dress-shirt and jeans with some nice shoes.]]

You ultimately decide on your winning combination. and head to [[the bathroom.]]

You grab the best shirt you own and head to [[the bathroom.]]

Staring in the mirror you fix your hair and stare at your rough beard which is beginning to grow in. Everything has to be right so you decide on… [[A clean shaven look.]] [[A light trim.]]

After cleaning and styling yourself you head out [[the door.]]

The snow continues to fall as it calmly dusted the streets below. As you make your way to Steve’s you come across the flower shop to stores over and [[stop.]]

She always loved flowers maybe it would be a good idea to buy her some. Walking into the store you see several bouquets but you ultimately decide on [[The roses]] [[The daisies]] [[The tulips]]

[[They always were her favourite.]]

As you finally arrive at Steve’s restaurant holding your flowers you glance through the window and see her sitting in the same spot you would always sit. Perfectly still. More beautiful now, in this moment, than any girl in any movie, more beautiful than any character you could dream up in one of your stories. [[You open the door.]]

As you enter she looks up at you with big eyes and you hand her the flowers. She smiles what may have been the saddest smile you’ve ever seen. She doesn't even look at the flowers. [[You try to speak but she beats you to it.]]

“First I want to say I’m sorry, those things I said they were unfair. I know your just trying to make it work, for both of us. And I know that you take jobs writing garbage you hate just to pay the bills.” you try and respond but [[she continues.]]

“But the work that you do, YOUR work, its beautiful and I hope one day the whole world will realize that. But... that's not why I wanted to talk. My agent, she found me a leading role... It's just a small film but they're shooting in London, oversees. I accepted it and I’m leaving tomorrow. So I wanted to talk because I wanted to say [[goodbye]].”

I don't remember much of what was said after that. Just empty words whose only purpose was to extend our final moments together. How I wished we could’ve sat in that restaurant forever. But eventually we ran out of words and moments. She got up to leave taking the flowers with her and as she made her way out the door I remember turning after her and calling out [[“I love you.”]]

Or maybe that's what I should’ve said, would you have said that? I guess it doesn't matter. Instead I said nothing just watched her leave and disappear into the snow. [[Gone forever.]]

Looking back on it now, she was right. And she was strong, stronger than I was. Strong enough to leave, to chase her dreams in movies. She’s an actress now and a pretty successful one too. And I’m still a writer, working, taking jobs I hate to pay bills. But these days I take more jobs I love than hate. Even now a pilot is being shot for a show I wrote. But to this day no character I’ve written has ever been as beautiful as she was sitting in that window. [[I wrote this too.]]

I always wondered, if I were someone else, if I made different choices would the outcome be the same. But as I wrote looking back on my choices and [[your choices]].

The End Story by: Simon Mancuso

What flowers, what clothes, shaven or not. None of it mattered because the choice was never yours and it was never mine. It was always hers and maybe in some world she chooses to stay. But in mine she will always [[disappear into the snow.]]