Excerpt from what is to come.

It is fall still, the leaves scattering in a refreshing, cool burst of wind. However the snow flakes are falling. They do not seem to make a mark on the ground. But still they fall. I tend to over think the stupid things in life. These white drops that float to the ground but never seem to actually touch down make me think about all the things in life that start but never end. And how so many things in life are said and done but what are the effects? Will I be something? Or someone? But this is just me over thinking the first snow fall of the year.

The room is filled but nobody seems to be in it. I miss her. Laken and I have been dating for just over two years now and each day is a dream that I never want to wake up from. Last winter, we would walk in the snow, just the moon light to guide us. The cute way we have snow fights and she runs so I have to chase her just to hold her tight in my arms. She smiles the type of smile that never ends and I am rendered speechless because her blue eyes seem to glow.

I notice all her quarks. She tries to hide them more then me because she knows that I will tease her for them. The way her left eye brow moves up when she eats. How she has "blond moments" or so we call them. With these tongue twisters she normally catches her teeth half way through the sentence. But her other catch is that she can not hide things from me and me from her. So no matter how "special" these moments are I always manage to find them out. When she has not slept a full eight hours, this is normally because she has left an essay until the night before the due date. Yet she easily pulls through it and gets higher marks then myself. On these nights that she does not get sleep, she becomes one extreme or another. First, and most often, she becomes happier then happiness itself. On these nights she has a knack for impersonating an Alabama accent, or so she calls it. No matter how much sleep her eyes tell me she needs her words make me laugh in my dreams until I realize that I have not fallen into my nightly comma but rather I am awake with her. Then there are the other nights that in an eye lashes dance she is crying and just needs to be held and I kiss her forehead and she melts into me, I feel her pain, I try to absorb all of her worries until we fall upwards and sleep seems beautiful.

It is 6:52 pm and I am going to be late to meet Laken. We are so similar yet so different. Being late is our motto. Even though I told her I would be there eat 7:00 she automatically changes it to 7:15. She knows me and I know her.

I know that as I am walking to her residence on campus that she is frantically jumping out of the shower. Then going through the mountain of dirty clothes to reach the clean ones. I know that as I knock on her door she is putting on just the right amount of make up. The eye shadow, the cover up, the mascara and the odd time she puts on lipstick but normally just lip gloss.

Once she opens the door she leans forwards with one sweet motion, her hands fall around my neck and her weight is on me. She kisses me just to see me smirk that half smile smirk and then I wipe the lip gloss from my lips. She says it is funny to pick on my little quarks that with anyone else I would get mad at but with her she knows I just find it cute because, well, just because. The way she brushes her blond hair, that to her never seems to cooperate but it always looks perfect especially when it is drooped across my neck when we cuddle in bed.

We hugged, we kissed, we lie motionless in bed. Love is not a question, the room is painted in it. As I lie there my mind swims, questions of nothing, thinking of everything. The moon seems to glow making shadows in the court yard that I see as I look out the window. These shadows are people. They are in love and as the constant flow of clouds sweep by the light for half the world, the shadows never part. Even among natures interference love remains. Always shifting but never leaving.
I slowly doze off, everything fades away but the room still glows.

...

Class. You have got to love class. Actually, the only reason why I do not look forward to class everyday is because this is my fourth year and I still do not know what to do after this. What career should I choose? With a BA in Classical Studies there are not too many doors that burst open for me. Douglas Coupland once wrote, "we are over educated and under employed." I thought when I first read those words he merely was depressed and tried to show a state of mind. I looked much to deep into his work. I now see that he literally meant, when I graduate in spring I will be much too educated for the low end job that I will overtake in a dead end place.

...

There is a fine line when talking to people. Whether it is saying too much or too little. But when it comes to Laken, I feel there can never be too much to say. I talk about her constantly. My friends all tell me to shut up as soon as my mouth opens and my face transforms into hearts. They say this because of jealousy. They tell me it is because it is annoying to hear me constantly talk about her. Come on though, these same friends have only flash memories of the last girl they slept with. The true translation to "shut up you talk about her too much" is "god I wish I could have what you have. The love, the security, the trust, and the feeling that if tomorrow never comes it might be alright because what means the world to me is in my arms." Instead of acknowledging this my friends insist on a guys night out. To them this is another opportunity to fail at love and gain another flash memory.

The alarm clocks buzzer ruins any thoughts of happiness that I have as I wake. This unhappiness soon leaves as I open my eyes to see a picture of Laken. Maybe we are too in love. That sounds stupid to me. How is that possible? I think that we are actually in love but the world sees so little of this phenomenon that most people feel it must be unreal. For them to make sense of this situation they create a flaw.

...

We meet for dinner at the cafeteria where of course, she goes straight to the desert buffet where she takes a piece of pie and three cookies. Then after her sugar intake has been exceeded for the next week she seems content to move to the actual meal part of the cafeteria which was luckily Lasagna.

...

The white fluff has been falling softly for the past few days. The snow is just over the ball of my ankle. When it is like this Laken and I go for walks down the paths behind the University. The moon always seems to find its way through the clouds to light our journey. Laken is the playful type. The type that always finds a way to bring me to life. Soon enough I find myself chasing her playful laughter through the un-walked paths. I catch her of course. Mostly because I am faster but partly because she wants me too.

We spend hours in the maze of trees. Snow flakes and foot prints, knowing the whole time that snow has been trickling into my shoes soaking them completely but not caring a bit. These are the things that love holds in its palm. In my palm I find her.

She gasps that gasp that she gets when she has thought of something she desperately wants to do. It is followed by the question that we both know my response will be yes too. "Snow angles! Can we make snow angles?" We walk over to a clear spot of snow close to a giant willow tree. The bark still reads "R + L Forever" bordered by a heart. We carved this emblem when we first discovered these paths and just as it reads it will be there forever, love never dies. Below the whispering branches, hand in hand snow angles are formed.

We walk slowly back to her place where we sleep happily.

It snowed again last night. It was a nice surprise too look outside the frosted window and see a flat white world. No foot prints of others. It is like a clean slate, a white board just for us to write our lives on. I look over at her, she is still in bed smothered in blankets. I catch her starring at me. She says she likes to look at me but it always makes me blush. She is not much of a morning person, she would hold those covers forever if I would crawl into the warmth with her.

"Come on, lets go get some breakfast." I tell her this knowing exactly what she will say to me.

"Nooooooo. Lets sleep Rory, I want you to lie with me." She says this with sleep still in her eyes and the most adorable whining in her voice.

"No, come on, it's 10:00 already, I've got class soon. Come on you lazy bum, get up!" All she does is bury herself further under the blankets.

"half an hour more? Please!" She mumbles this from under the blankets.

"Fifteen minutes." She is so stubborn that these fifteen minutes soon turn into half an hour.

...

After class I go home to shower, then decide to walk over to Laken's house to see her for the night. I bury my hands deep into my pockets trying to escape the cold and start walking. The snow is full and fluffy. I have to cross the road like every other night, but it is cold and biting outside. As I move towards Laken's place my foot prints are erased almost as soon as my feet are lifted. They are only single tracks. I am walking alone, with out Laken. And unlike when we are together my prints are erased. My life is not being created. Am I at a stand still? I am alone. Laken is not here walking with me, our strides are not matching each other. I see now that she helps me. She makes my foot prints stay in the snow. The wind and the snow may just be playing games with my heart though. I will soon be with her. This is just me over thinking the snow falling.

...

During the night as I was sleeping I had a dream, actually more of a nightmare. I dreamt that as I was walking home from Laken's house last night when I was crossing the road. The wind and snow was so harsh and blowing that I could not see as well as I thought. I felt I had enough time, I thought I would make it, I thought he could see me. As I crossed the road I felt a sudden jolt of pain. but that was all. It was quick, no broken bones, no blood. But, I was, well, dead. I was given the after life. I was given the ability to relive the happiest things in life, the things that I choose to relive, my fondest memories. Obviously I chose Laken. But, as I relive these moments and memories I would not know it, time would just over lap itself and I would not be aware of it.

The scariest part about dreams like this is that you never know if they are real or just a dream.

...

It is fall still, the leaves scattering in a refreshing, cool burst of wind. However the snow flakes are fading. They do not seem to make a mark on the ground. But still they fall. I tend to over think the stupid things in life. These white drops that float to the ground but never seem to actually touch down make me think about all the things in life that start but never end. And how so many things in life are said and done but what are the effects? Will I be something? Or someone? But this is just me over thinking the first snow fall of the year.

Weird I feel as if that has happened before.