flight

snowflakes drifted from the sky.
it was too early for such cold weather, yet it was there. snow. unmistakably.
his breath steaming in the cold night air, he drew his jacket closer, gathering what little warmth it would give him.
everything seemed so… quiet. muffled. his footsteps, crunching, crushing the white crystals on former dark gray pavement.

am i the only one here?

alien. so alien. in just a few hours, the world had transformed.
transformed into an uninhabitable environment… beautiful and deadly.
a butterfly, halfway covered by the drifting flakes, lay quivering on the sidewalk. he stared at the fragile body, transfixed, considered picking it up, but before being able to even finish his thought, the butterfly shuddered – one last time – and its wings lost color forever.
he resisted the urge to cringe and hurry away; instead made himself look a moment longer at the motionless form at his feet… once, so perfectly vivid; gorgeous.

all things must die. is that what this means? all things must die?

his gaze lifted to the wild and furious tumble above, and before his heart could adopt the cold that was spreading through his body, he hurried away, determined to find artificial warmth and comfort.
all he left behind were his footprints, slowly filling, fading from sight.

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