You can't catch me

The snow draped my car like a thick layer of frosting on a cake, reminding me of my father's playful words as he frosted my mother's homemade cakes. A pristine blanket covered the quaint brick cottage and its fading garden, signaling winter's final embrace before spring's arrival. The world appeared as if it were dressing up for a grand photo shoot—crisp, fresh, and brimming with promise, much like the blank pages of a new chapter.

Today wasn't meant for work; nature's spectacle demanded attention. My car, buried under the snow, was a silent plea to stay put, and I gladly obliged.

A flash of red caught my eye— a cardinal, perched gracefully on a picket fence, its vibrant hue contrasting the snowy backdrop. I reached for my camera, but the bird seemed to smirk, teasing me with its fleeting presence.

Deciding to stroll to the lake, my feet carried me along a winding path through the snow-covered trees. Their glittering coats transformed winter's stillness into a spectacle of light. The world was a silent symphony, punctuated only by the occasional chirping of birds and the scampering of squirrels leaving delicate footprints in the snow. It felt surreal, this winter wonderland.

Emerging at the frozen lake, I noticed the cleared snow on the opposite side where colorful dots danced on the ice. A smile crept onto my face, and I quickened my pace despite the biting cold.

The lakeside park buzzed with life despite the cold. Couples strolled hand in hand, children frolicked in the snow, and an elderly man serenaded the scene with his violin. I dropped a coin into his hat, his laughter echoing warmly.

While I admired the skaters, I had to admit my own clumsiness on ice. Memories of stumbling on skates back home filled my mind. As I watched graceful skaters glide effortlessly, I was reminded of my own lack of coordination.

A tap on my shoulder jolted me from my thoughts. I recognized her even before I saw the fuzzy red coat. Lucy. Her face radiated warmth, her smile offering comfort. "Joe! You're back!"

"L-Lucy..." I managed, stunned. "I've missed you so much."

Her embrace enveloped me, pushing out the cold and replacing it with her warmth. She revealed two pairs of skates, offering one to me. "I thought I might find you here," she teased.

"I'm not great at skating, you know," I protested.

"That's the fun part," she laughed, lacing up her skates.

As she effortlessly glided onto the ice, I struggled to keep up. Lucy's grace on ice was mesmerizing, each move a dance to the silent tune of the surroundings. I captured the moments with my camera, each click attempting to freeze her beauty on film.

"Come on, Joe! Catch me if you can!" she called, her laughter echoing.

I chased her, stumbling and wobbling, but never catching up. As I reached out to her, the ice beneath me gave way. Panic surged, but strong hands pulled me back just in time. Lucy's face looked down at me, relief mingling with concern.

"You're lucky I was here," she teased.

Our eyes locked, and in that moment, everything felt right. Her lips met mine, sending warmth through every fiber of my being. But the moment was fleeting.

"I can't come home tonight," she whispered. "Mama needs me."

The next day, as I prepared to meet Lucy, the café was filled with the scent of warm milk and cinnamon. She greeted me with a kiss, but her blue eyes held a frosty distance. We sat by the lake, sipping our hot chocolates in silence.

Lucy's face crumpled as she spoke of her mother's worsening condition and our growing distance. I tried to explain, but words failed us both. Her departure left me numb, the weight of our situation heavy on my shoulders.

Returning home, I found the house cold and empty. Memories of Lucy's warmth contrasted sharply with the desolation around me. As I sorted through my camera roll, her image was missing. The loss felt tangible, a void that no photo could fill.

The following day, as the snow began to melt, I searched for Lucy's missing photograph. My heart sank when I couldn't find it, but a familiar figure caught my eye—Lucy, dancing on the ice. Mesmerized, I watched as she twirled and spun, her movements a silent testament to her pain and longing.

As cracks appeared on the ice, I raced towards her, but it was too late. The ice shattered, swallowing her whole. In my desperation, I too fell into the freezing depths. Darkness enveloped me, but warm hands pulled me to safety.

The violinist from the park saved me, revealing that Lucy had passed away years ago. The realization was crushing, but the violinist's words offered solace: "Love like that never truly disappears."

Days later, I left our winter wonderland behind, memories of Lucy tucked away in my heart. As I drove away, the cardinal returned, its red plumage