The Quarterback and the Artist

In the final seconds of the game, she found him. Her red lipstick against alabaster skin made a contrast against his black skin. Her mouth found his. The quarterback and the artist, entwined in an instant embrace would still stun some and shock others. Shutterbugs snapped photos that would blanket websites and physical magazines, further enshrining the moment through all ages.

And it snowed. My, how it snowed in the championship game. Right at the end, though. A linebacker on his team celebrated the win with a pronounced and well-photographed snowangel. It looked pristine; it was a green, giant cherub amidst the whiteness of the field.

She smiled and grabbed hold of the quarterback’s hand. The victory felt electric, ecstatic. That was until the various news outlets claimed conspiracisms against the quarterback and the artist.

In the snowy world looking like white confetti pouring out of a window in the sky, she noticed an article. It read something about her being a plant for some political party. A tear formed on her cheek and combined with the falling snow.

The quarterback looked at that. “Don’t worry about it.” His words and smile stood as assurance for her. Then, a reporter stuck a microphone in his face and asked him questions.

“How does it feel? What do you think? Why are you here?”

The quarterback said, “I just won the big game. This is my girlfriend. It’s snowing!”

With the other players engaged in snowball fights, the couple smiled once more.