I walked here in the snow

A snowstorm in July. 

Would you believe me if I said that was what brought me to your house?

To your quaint little cabin tucked away in the woods.

That’s okay, I wouldn’t believe me either—and it’s only half true.

In order to come to your place, I would have had to already be in the area, of course. In these times when the world outside is less than predictable, you have to travel far to get what you want. Food, necessities, companionship—none of it is right outside your door anymore. 

I was in your town, getting the things I needed in order to survive, when the snow came. It started innocently enough, wisping through the oddly warm air. Passersby looked up at it out of the corners of their eyes, then did doubles takes, then triple takes. 

Snow? In July?

The sky answered this silent question with a resounding, Well yes. It began to dump buckets and buckets of flakes, wind swiping at hair and bags and bodies. With my acute sense of survival and—I’ll admit—anxious tendencies, I had gotten a head-start, beginning to flee out of the crowds before the snow got too thick. 

Before the chaos ensued. 

Cars rendered themselves useless the more the powder fell. Luckily, I was on foot. Is that lucky? I’m not entirely sure. It brought me to you—a fact that I consider pretty lucky, but that you may deem the opposite. 

I’m not stupid. I know things went south the last time that we talked and have been strained ever since. I’m willing to put it behind us, though. Especially given the circumstances.

My beat-up boots continued to plow through the heavy downfall. It isn’t cold out there…that’s the strange thing. The hardest part is trekking through the quicksand-like terrain, but at least I was at no risk of freezing to death. Only getting buried alive. 

The land looked beautiful, almost mesmerizing. Even I had to stop for a moment and appreciate the dusting of white on the treetops and the blanket across the nearby clearing. All I could hear was droning white noise, almost relaxing to me as the snow…kept…falling…

And that’s when I realized where I was. I knew that clearing. Your cabin was near. Just to the left, I was sure of it.

I thought, how long have I walked? The last time I visited you, I remembered the cabin being settled deep into woods, further than feasible to get to by walking from the main roads. I drove here and I drove away and never once did I think walking would be a better option.

And yet, there I was.

Your home came into view, the fireplace emitting a glow on the sheer white curtain in the window. I let that light be my driving force, my guide to safety. 

Any house would have done. It’s an unprecedented summer snowstorm, after all. It being yours, though, was the perfect consolation prize. 

When I knocked, I noticed your peephole. I thought maybe if you saw it was me, you wouldn’t open the door.

You did, though. You opened it. And here I am. Here we are.

So, yes, I’m here because of the apocalyptic weather phenomenon.

But…why was I in this town, specifically?

For supplies, sure, yes, technically.

But so close to you? And for the snow to hit right then? And to walk and walk and stumble upon your house? It feels like fate, no?

Hm, well, I have time to convince you anyway. 

Look outside. 

It’s not like we’re going anywhere.