Her winter作文 was written on the last evening of her harsh winter. She, in her face, had no trace of a single tear, her skin had creases that went down like earth, her eyes were filled with shadows of blood, and her silver hair was moving as though it were speaking to a distant voice.
She, however, did not care about the harsh weather. She did nothing more than sit in that quiet little square on the outskirts of town.
And she never forgot it all. That evening, when I happened to walk by, still sitting in that small square, she was there too. And even though her face had no visible trace of a tear, her skin had creases that went down as hard as earth and her eyes were filled with shadows of blood, even the coldness of the day made little sense.
"Come one potato!" she snapped out of her shadow and stepped back. The air was still thick from the chill, but I had no time to shield myself. I began to take a step into that empty corner.
she turned around and gave me a hand, his fingers brushing against the soft fur of an open potato. There was a smell in the air now, like the familiar scent of earth. The flesh pulled from the inside of her hand slipped out of my hands, but I could feel it moving through my skin as though it were a living thing itself.
She, with those sharp, dark hands, unwrapped the potato and handed it to me. A little while later, she placed that in a bag, and then took another. She never touched any money or anything like that; she just took what was there. I couldn't stop myself from trying to count them. But when I did, the number was off, and her count was higher than mine. So I paid the man who had been selling potatoes to her, but in doing so, I didn’t think about the money that was sitting on his table below.
A night passed, and now I was back at the bank where she was still there. She hadn’t gone to the bank; she had gone to sell potatoes. And she remained at that little square on that thin green grass for at least a few hours more. When her face turned soft in that moment of quiet stillness, it all began to make sense. I didn’t know what had happened before, but now I did understand why that woman would be so cold and lonely. She didn’t need warmth or attention anymore. She had just come from donating money to a poor neighbor’s family, and she had no idea what the neighbor had done with it all. But even then, she was still distant and cold. The fact that I came over at night, though not in person, seemed to bring me closer to her, but she didn’t seem to mind being there. She just wanted to sit on that thin green grass by a fire or something like that.
A few hours after that, I found out that the woman was going out again. And it was an odd story, one of sudden change and unexpected isolation. "Here's your potato!" she said, pointing her finger at the pile in front of me. Her voice was sharp and dry, but it had a certain quietness about it that made me smile. She took another potato, and we both waited until the smell was gone before we began to smoke. The fire soon grew bright enough for us to see our faces, but even then, they were too cold to do much with their voices. I couldn’t help but think of her when I saw her in that corner by herself. She wasn’t interested in anything other than the fire burning in front of me and herself wondering what was wrong with the world around her.
She had always been the quiet one, though. She hadn’t spoken much during my time at that place, but she still moved through the world in a way that seemed to move like someone’s shadow. The air that surrounded us was cool and still, and the way she walked made me feel like I could see her as well. She didn’t have many friends; she was a lone spirit in the cold land of this season. And yet, even though people were distant from her, they couldn’t stop noticing how small and unyielding she looked. The fire in front of us had enough heat to make her stay there long enough for me to see through that distance. But when I did, I found myself lost in the world around me, trying to understand what was going on in a world that seemed so far away from me.
A few more hours passed, and she still wasn’t moving. She didn’t have much of an interest in the world beyond that fire. But even then, she wasn’t interested in walking with us anymore. She had gone her own way, though. She was alone again, and the world around her just seemed a little different. There was less warmth to the sky now, and the air was more chill than ever before. The only thing that remained was me, sitting on the thin green grass by the fire, staring out at the world beyond us. And I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore.
