Outside, the snow fell quietly, conquering everything that came in its way. It would be a long time before this thick white layer of deception will be lifted. 
However, on the forgotten couch in the musty corner of my aunt’s house, under another white blanket, a different conquest was being held. 

The more I held back, the more I recieved. The colder it was outside, the hotter it got under the blanket. It might look white from the outside, but it was red on the inside. There were molten liquids and heated surfaces in contact. There was pressure, somtimes high, sometimes low. He was discovering depths and elevations in me, unknown to everyone, even myself. He was stamping his name inside every corner and hollow spots on me. He was building storms in my breath, waterfalls in the valleys and volcanoes in my belly. I was the idol he was worshipping. He was my favourite disciple. I marked his plains with my nails. He was invading me and writing history. Together, we travelled to the deepest and the highest possible places in each other. It was almost the end, both of us trying hard to make it last forever. In that one breath we held back, we were going to split and shatter into stardust. The blanket will be the sole witness to the unfolding of this force of the nature between us. 

As white as snow, as pure as snow…. Love. This deception was too beautiful to ignore. One last time, we pushed and pulled, and we gasped.

Then the avalanche began. 

Outside the window, the snow had stopped falling. 

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