It was freezing outside, but I stood out in the cold with just a sweater on to catch the perfect snowflakes fluttering down from the sky. Often snowstorms hammer down with white small balls or clumps, covering the ground. However, this afternoon, the snowfall was light and I considered myself lucky to catch the detailed snowflakes and observe the minuscule works of art for a second or two before they melted away.
I wrote a flash fiction prose I titled Snowflakes awhile back. I figured today was a good day to share it here. Enjoy!
Behind a queue of traffic, engines hummed at a red light. She rummaged through her purse to glance at the directions on her phone. Another doctor, another blood test. She rubbed at the aching knot at the base of her neck, envisioning more emotionless nods, pricks, and prods.
She blocked out her anxiety with distracting thoughts of kissing her toddler son goodbye on his soft cheek. She had handed him to her mom, his little fists stuffed with fruit snacks and toy cars. He was unaware of her departure. Everyone around her so unaware.
A white speck on the windshield caught her eye. She leaned forward, the tip of her nose almost colliding with the frozen glass. A delicate snowflake stood undisturbed, the frigid air keeping it intact. A few more of its cousins flittered down from the gray mass above. One woven together with delicate lace, another with stoic, symmetrical spikes. She had to squint to make out each unique pattern; a work of art kept hidden except for those who are looking.
She then breathed for the first time that day. Long enough to press down on her hammering heart. Deep enough to shake off the sticky concerns that clung to her ever-firing synapses. In her exhale a quiet stillness was left inside her, strong enough to hold onto.
Then the light turned green.