She couldn’t move, the body completely covered in snowflakes as they fell heavy from the dark sky above. Her fingers were frozen as she rubbed them in the center of her palm, the wool gloves she had bought last week doing nothing to stop the cold from seeping in. She pulled her shoulders up to her ears, her down jacket rustling against itself as she stared across the canal, looking at the bare trees on the other side. She didn’t know why she had the urge to come outside so early, she hadn’t been awake at 3 o’clock in years, but here she was at the edge of the water, waiting for something. She wasn’t sure what. 

The holes in her knit socks left the pads of her feet digging into the ground down in-soles she knew smelled like sweat. Her leggings clung to her thighs, numbness creeping along her skin, molding to her limbs. The snowflakes hit the black water reflecting the orange streetlights along the bridge. They expanded out along the water as soon as they hit the surface, small waves dissolving into one another. She pulled her arms against her chest, swinging her hips forward and back in an attempt to warm them up. This was winter, this far North, against the backdrop of a barely rising sun, she felt the darkness under her skin. She wore it, trying to find the silence of hibernation when the city kept moving. This was her moment of quiet even though she couldn’t shake the feeling that something, someone, was waiting for her too. 

She turned to look down the small bike path, the one she had walked a thousand times before, as if there was already someone there. She slowed her breath, watching a growing presence emerge and expand above her head before it floated into the sky. No thoughts except for a single “hello” she emitted from the back of her mind, her mouth shut. 

“This morning is cold,” she heard, filling the air around her as if she were in a bubble. The hair along her arms stood up, against the back of her neck she felt her skin raise. Even in these temperatures, her body was heating, a dampness between her arm and her upper ribcage. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, wet saliva hardening against her mouth in the freezing air. She opened them once more, a small, dark figure padding along the path toward her from under the bridge. She dropped her arms, her legs still stuck in place. She had felt this presence before, her breath quickening under the weight of all the layers. She dug her fingers into her sides and then opened her arms, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to stop whatever this was from coming closer. She felt her heart in her chest, the blurry body getting smaller as it approached. She sucked in the thick winter air, counting to five before she exhaled it all out of her mouth, a white barrier emerging from within her. She dropped to her knees, the ground hard as if it had never felt the blossoming of spring before. A small mew and then another as the figure stopped in front of her, green eyes among black fur. 

She opened her mouth once more and let a “hello” fill the space, the small figure plodding closer before it wrapped itself around her legs. A mew, a purr, and a question: “are you going to let me come home with you this time?”. She picked up the creature, stood against the darkened morning, and turned toward her apartment, knowing that the flowers, the colors, the sun, would come.