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The air was only slightly chilled. It was caught in a slight breeze, gently caressing all skin that it could find. The warmth of touch was being requested by the wind, it wished to wrap all in a blanket. The chilling breeze barely pierced the thin layer that is skin, instead warming on contact. The air calmly excepted this warmth with a proud resignation.
The slight sound of wind tunneling through my ears was drowned out by the requirement of silence. The silence of angels rang in my head, blocking out all unnesacary noise. They sang for me, praised by down upon my ears.
The street was covered in the light first falling of snow. It appeared like a postcard, only real and identifably. No alienation could be found within the first steps in that wet mass, the crispness that surrounded each step and each play that was to be enjoyed.
It was midday, but there was only the one car on the street. All others were away, holidays, work, school, unable to savour the sun on thier skin.
Oh, the touch of skin. Hands holding on slightly too tight, my knuckles refusing to ever give up, no matter the pain. Her hands, so slight, as soft as doves, held in mine. Our bodies held so close together, joined as one, the black and white jackets forming into a perfection.
Her lips tasted of strawberry. Her warm breath of mint. She breathed into me, my life. I breathed into her. We were one.
It ended. This moment that should have lasted forever in perfection, was pulled apart by the desperation of time.
She was gone. The moment was gone.
I don't you can see, I only use my superpowers for good...