Note: I know this is late but here is post 8!
Tip-toeing out the back doors of the lecture hall, we find ourselves embraced by the creeping frost of Winter. It crawls up our toes, fingers and spine. We release the cold out in long smiling breaths. It's cold, we say in between blowing on our popsicle fingers. With that grin that's up to no good, you say that we should get lost. So we do.
We blindly trek along the riverside, dodging ghostly shadows of trees. Twig fingers scrape my shoulders and I flinch. I'm scared, I say as I squeeze your hand. And you squeeze my hand back, "Don't worry, you're too scrawny for monsters to eat."
Our laughter wakes the stars as we run up and down the swaying hills. Shrapnel dandelions dance around our faces until we lose ourselves in the swirling so we lay our backs to the ground and our eyes to the sky. Do you think it'll ever snow, I whisper as we watch the stars. So white, so bright, it looks as though they'll fall and embrace us. No, you say in your quiet voice. No, we left the snow millions of years ago.
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