I wanted a fairytale set in the snow – soft white flakes suspended in the air like dandelions; delicious heaps of vanilla ice masking the dirt stained ground; bare trees holding slivers of white, sprinkling them about occasionally like confetti.
I wanted my world to be delicate and pure and perfect, a world made of ice and lace.
When it happened, I was ecstatic. I was living in my very own snow globe. It was perfect. But then the sun came out and everything changed. The snow started a slow melt; the pure white turned to muck. Everything became messy, and difficult, and now I don’t know how to get out.