the snow melts (5)

She knows he’s right, at least on some level. But there’s a stubborn part of her that resists the idea of moving forward, of embracing the unknown. She’s always been more comfortable with what she can see and touch, with the tangible and the familiar.

“Maybe,” she says at last, though the word feels hollow. Noah doesn’t press her. Instead, he takes another sip of his coffee and watches as she turns back toward the clearing, her gaze drifting over the landscape.

The snow continues to melt, the edges of the world softening and blurring, and for a moment, they stand there in silence, two figures caught between seasons. By midday, the sound of dripping water has grown louder, more insistent.