Winter is so cold that it should be illegal.
I'm not joking. There should be an universal law passed to cancel winter all together. Perhaps if we can get the Earth to agree, we could have an all-year-around summer. This time, I'm joking.
Standing in front of the national garden centre, I couldn't help but look up at the metal gate that was in my first view. The gate itself was fashioned from black iron; I had imagined pictures of such a gate in story books, artistic and pretty. It was a fine flourishing touch to the garden centre in all seasons.
Deep ivy leaves adorned the wall with veins of the lightest green. Upon any wintry day, they'd bring a bloom of green to any landscape here. I've always been passionate about flowers and nature, perhaps it's because this was the place where I last saw them.
Perhaps I should stop coming here, but I can't help it. I keep drifting back here every year on the same date, hoping that something would happen. I used to come here filled with hope and life, waiting and waiting for... anything. But now, I just come to reminisce about what could have been, or what happened.
Had I done something wrong? I kid myself, of course. I was only five when it all happened. What could an adult blame on a five-year-old child?
I decided that it would be best to leave this place. To me, it brings back unknown feelings that have yet to be identified. I'm going to be late to class anyway, so I forced myself to walk through my special iron gate, footprints forming with every step I took in the untouched snow.
These days of well moving traffic in the city centre have become more normal. The air is sweeter, the birds audible, and a slower pace has been settled in the commuter's minds. It's peace, but not at its finest.
I made it to school on time, but barely. I have a reoccurring habit of cutting things close. My school is filled with the same pricks who attend high-profile dinners, paid for with their Daddy's money. Being the school's charity case, I have no such luck.
Those people are wired different to me. They've never had to fight over food or feel grateful to have a warm sweater in the winter. They don't have to think of having a car as a luxury, but more of an necessity. If I was given a car, I'd sell it before the lunch hour and spend the following monetary funds on books.
Of course, I had English first. A perfect contrast between what I love and what I hate.
One step into the classroom and people were already looking at me like a pustule just waiting to be popped. Disgusted and annoyed, the girls sitting at the back started to shoot whispers to each other before I sat myself down, taking out my books for the lesson.
In this school, you make one mistake and you fall to the bottom rung. The only mistake I made was being born and attending this school. According to some gossips, my presence here sullies the pristine marble floors of the academy itself. I'm a homeless woman amongst heiresses and millionaires. How fun, right?
You're right. This is fun.