A cynical young man trudged through the sidewalk. His black hoodie and leather boots no match for the bitter chill of the night.
A myriad of lights washed over the sky, radiating from the stars like compliments to the dimly lit moon.
But from his point of view, the sky was dreary and lifeless, the stars hounded by dense, lifeless clouds that only parted to offer a fleeting glimpse of the beauty above.
A razor-cold breeze sheared past him, biting at his fair skin with each passing second.
His nose was a bright crimson, and he shivered, his gaze locked on the powder-white snow beneath his leather boots.
Snowflakes caught in his dark blue hair and clung there, a cold halo of crystalline water.
He watched them intently, as if locked in a high-stakes staring contest with the ground.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, a cloud of steam escaping his lips. "I just had to lose the house keys today of all days. How absurd."
He was not a fan of the snow; in fact, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to say he despised it.
The memory of a long-forgotten childhood game resurfaced, the sting of being left behind by his friends had made him despise it even as a boy. Now, a grown man, he still detested it just the same.
The periodic flash of a passing vehicle sliced through the semi-darkness, but the streetlamps did their job well enough.
He could see where he was going, and that was enough. It's not as if he had anywhere else to go.
His keys were gone, and without them, he had no access to his home. He had no other choice but to continue the miserable, futile search or face the certainty of sleeping outside.
Enraged by the thought, he broke into a sprint. But a patch of ice brought him down, and he fell on his back with a groan, crashing like felled timber.
The ruthless frost embraced him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he lay there, his breath misting above him, resigning himself to his fate.
*****
For a moment, he was a child again, the bitter cold stinging his exposed skin. Ten years ago today, he had waited all day for his friends, but they never came.
He had fallen into a snowdrift behind his garage, laughing at first, waiting for one of them to pull him out.
But as the minutes stretched on, the snow had stopped feeling like a game and had started to feel like a trap.
The cold had seeped into his bones, and he still remembered the heavy feeling in his chest—a mix of freezing temperatures and a deeper, emotional chill. He had hated snow ever since.
*****
He lay there, contemplating his miserable luck, when he heard the soft crunch, crunch of footsteps drawing closer.
He braced for a shadow, a wild animal, anything, but the sound stopped just above his head.
Looking up, he saw not the harsh city night sky, but the soft curve of a black umbrella. And beneath it, a girl.
Her eyes, the color of emeralds in the half-light, held a curious, peaceful warmth.
She crouched down, the leather of her skirt groaning quietly, and tipped the umbrella so it covered both of them.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice a peaceful eddy in a rushing river. "Why are you sleeping on the sidewalk?"
Keith could only stare. He'd lived for sixteen years and yet; he had never seen such a beautiful girl in his life.
A blush crept up his neck, a heat that had nothing to do with the freezing air.
His eyes were captivated by her flawless features: a perfectly symmetrical face, a sharp jawline, and those dazzling emerald eyes.
There was no doubt in his mind, he had fallen in love with her at first sight.
A few seconds later, he answered her question, his gentle voice cracking. He pulled his hood lower, hoping it would hide the flush on his cheeks.
"I… I fell," he said. "That's all"
The girl watched him with a gentle expression. While she wasn't smiling, her kindness was unmistakable. She then looked deep into his eyes, her expression curious.
"Why did you fall?" she asked softly.
"I..." he stopped before continuing, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him. "Because I... I... I couldn't find my... my house keys."
A sympathetic look crossed her face, and she stood up, stretching out the kinks from crouching.
Keith stood up as well, acutely aware of their height difference. He was a towering 5'11" to her dainty 5'3"
"Did you find them at least?" she asked.
The city hummed all around them, the distant rumble of a truck growing louder as it passed through the intersection.
His expression soured as he looked down. A low-toned sigh escaped from his lips as the steam that came from it flowed slowly into the sky.
"Unfortunately, no," he muttered, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I… didn't… find them."
After his reply, the girl nodded and took her phone from her pocket. She glanced at the screen, which read [21:39]. She returned the phone to her pocket, looked at him again, and hesitated.
"Hey, uhm… if you don't mind… you can stay the night at my house."
Keith took a step back, his body shaking slightly from cold and disbelief.
"Is she serious?" he thought, his mind racing. "Who in their right mind would invite a complete stranger to their home? She must be out of her— Wait. If I don't accept her generous offer, I'll freeze to death."
The realization hit him with the force of an oncoming train. He then decided to make the right choice. Freezing to death was no longer an option.
He shifted his weight, taking a tentative step back, almost flinching from her kindness.
"I appreciate the offer... but I wouldn't want to impose."
"You don't need to worry," she said, her smile inviting. "I'm the one who invited you over, so you wouldn't be imposing."
"Well… then... thank you… so much... for your generosity." he murmured, the words catching in his throat as he shivered slightly.
"My pleasure," she replied, her eyes glimmering. "Come on, let's go."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, bringing them both under the umbrella.
Since he was taller, she couldn't hold it properly, so he took it from her and held it for her instead.
As they walked toward her house, she introduced herself: "I'm Akira Kurosawa, by the way. But you can call me Akira."
"Akira... Kurosawa, huh. What a beautiful name." He thought, as he replayed her smile in his mind, then looked at her hand, feeling the warmth of it with each passing millisecond. "Whoa, calm down, she's just being nice... don't read too much into it."
"That's a nice name," he said, looking straight ahead as cars passed, his face lighting up. "I'm Keith Yamasaki. It's nice to meet you, Kurosawa-san."
Akira's face lit up, as she smiled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Call me Akira. It feels kinda weird to be called Kurosawa."
"Right, then—it's nice to meet you… Akira-san."
Akira nodded with a bright smile etched on her face as they continued on their way.
Keith sighed, his thoughts a cacophony of internal conflict. "I wonder, could a guy like me even dream of a girl like her? No, Keith Yamasaki—that's you being…. Unrealistic…"
[To be continued...]