The snow was falling...

I was walking back, and everything was perfect, except one thing was missing, a hand that should have been holding mine. As for everything else, it was a just perfect temperature of about 30 degrees, and the wind was calm, almost impossible to detect without the gentle falling of the beautiful snow flakes. The perfect kind of snowflakes. The ones that seem to whisper as they hit the ground, and you can feel as they fall into your hair, and lay a fresh white blanket over everything in sight. The kind that refreshes the scene, makes life beautiful, and seems to slow time down. That is how the world felt as I stepped from the gym into the weather, back to my dorm. I walked down the same path I do every time I leave the rock wall, and you were there climbing. Nothing changes, not the steps, not the time, not the thoughts in my head, not the fact that I walk, hoping you will be there behind me, running to catch up, and asking me to stop. Asking me to stop, to wait for you, for you to grab my hands, look me in the eyes, not breaking your stare, slowly getting closer until our lips touch, and we close our eyes, almost reluctant to break the gaze we share, but yet so willing because of what we know will come. Just imagining this distant dream takes my breath away, makes me stop, to catch it, and makes me dizzy, as I feel even my fingertips tingle from the ecstasy I imagine as this wonderful situation plays out in my mind.