text: This is my first post here, hope you guys enjoy it! :) The cold wind blew through the valley; the trees shivered as it blew harshly by. It was the middle of winter and the trees should have been used to the cold, but they weren’t. They still trembled in the icy wind and broken blasts of snow. Their bows bent and even broke as the snow grew thick upon them: it was the middle of winter. The trees should have been used to the cold, but they weren’t. A man walked through the valley and clutched his jacket tighter around him, the wind racing about him. His name was Nathaniel Town, but everyone called him Nat. He had been through many winters and, like the trees, should have been used to the cold, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t more than twenty years old, and everyone in his hometown knew him as a happy, joyful person. He was known for his quiet but intelligent manner, his odd sense of humor, and his soft smile. Everyone loved him. Yet, even with all that love, Nat was alone. He lived in a cabin nestled in the valley, a few miles away from the town and far enough removed that he seldom had any visitors. It was because of this distance that Nat felt so alone. Most days he was fine with it; he had grown used to it after all this time. However, there were often days when he felt the weary loneliness seeping over him. Today was one of those days. “Should just get used to it,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled his coat closer to his shoulders. “Should just give up. It’s not for me.” The wind howled back in response and he shivered: it was the middle of winter. He should’ve been used to the cold, but he wasn’t. Nat thought back over the days’ events and frowned, his normally pleasant and hopeful demeanor crushed. The day had started out normally, he had made the mile and a half long trek into town and gone to work. He worked in the printing shop and seldom spoke to anyone other than his coworkers, but today it had been different. Mary Hamlet, a young woman whom he had known in school, had stopped by to talk with him. She had stayed there all day and the two had even gone out and had lunch together. There was nothing too abnormal in this as Mary had been visiting Nat more and more frequently over the past month, but then something strange had happened. Nat shook his head and grimaced, “Shouldn't have hoped it would happen. Should have known better.” He looked around and saw the trees, their boughs heavy with snow looked about ready to crack and break. He felt the wind rush around him, but his body had grown numb to the cold and he continued, unperturbed by the harsh wind. The snow gusted down in flurries now; it was the middle of winter. The valley should have been used to the cold, but it wasn’t. Nat dropped his eyes back to the ground and continued on through the painful part of his day. He and Mary had been sitting on a bench in the park when it had happened. He had reached over and brushed his hand against hers, almost as if it were an accident. Mary had looked down, noticed the attempt, and looked back up at Nat. He smiled at her warmly and she smiled back, but the warmth wasn’t there. “What’s wrong?” Nat had asked. Mary smiled, shrugged, looked at the snow dusted ground and said, “I’m not sure.” The conversation that ensued was too much for Nat to bear and he turned his attention back to the snowy path. He saw the distant shape of his home and plodded drearily through the snow. His boots were soaked, but he was used to the cold by now. His eyes listed from side to side as he searched for something to distract himself. He saw a rabbit spring quickly across the path, moving fast in an attempt to stay warm. Nat chuckled to himself darkly, “Silly Rabbit. Don’t you know it’s the middle of winter? Shouldn’t you be used to the cold?” But the rabbit wasn’t used to the cold. Nat felt himself drift back into the memories. He heard Mary’s voice, “I just don’t think we can do this.” “What do you mean?” Nat had been stunned and confused by the revelation. Mary had looked away, “I’m just not ready for it.” She hadn’t said anything else, just gotten up and walked away without saying goodbye. Nat was left on the bench, his face an expression of shock and utter confusion at what had just happened. Soon enough, the sadness had crept into his heart as he realised Mary wouldn’t come back. He had clenched his fists and stared down at the dusting of snow, watching small clear patches form as the tears dripped out of his eyes. It wasn’t the first time Nat had been turned down. He always seemed to be just about to start something when it was ripped away from him. “Stupid thing, hope,” he said to himself as he reached his house and opened the door. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, hope only brings sadness.” He walked into his house and started to build the fire. He didn’t hate Mary, or any of the others who had turned him away. He didn’t hate them at all. He was more angry with himself than anyone else, for ruining the chances he was given. He thought back to the moment on the bench, “What if waited a little longer? What if..” He pondered the question and felt a weight in his chest as he thought of the future. He knew he couldn’t blame her, that it wasn’t her fault, and he didn’t want to. Instead, he blamed himself. He put his head in his hands and cried; the tears flowed down his face like small rivers. “I shouldn’t have ever started. I should have just let it all go.” He spoke in between sobs, but no one could hear. It was the middle of winter: the world outside was frozen over. It should have been used to the cold, but it wasn’t. Nat stood up and walked away from the half-built fire. He made his way over to the door and stepped outside, his jacket still hanging inside the house. He walked barefoot in the snow, the cold unable to hurt him. He saw his breath come out, misty in the cold wind, and sighed. He kept walking. He walked into the woods, towards a place where he knew he could think clearly. He passed the frozen trees and bushes, his mind and body just as icy as them, but he was used to it. He walked deeper into the forest and lost feeling in his hands. He rubbed them subconsciously, not intending to keep them warm. “It’s the middle of winter,” he whispered to himself. At last, he reached the clearing he had been looking for. It was a dark glade, covered by the trees so only a dusting of snow lay on the ground. In the center of the clearing was a small pond. He drew close to the pond and looked down at his reflection. The icy blue water stared back up at him and he saw his bare face. It was the face of a broken man. He saw the red rings around his eyes, the tear stains down his cheeks, and the soulless frown that enshrouded his lips. He didn’t know how long he stood there. It could have been a few minutes or hours, the light in the deep woods was already so dim that he couldn't tell what time it was. He looked at himself in the water, thoughts floating through his sorrow ridden mind. He remembered times before today, times when he had fallen for the same trick. He began to hum a song to himself. He repeated one line more than the others. “I guess I should be used to it, Just go ahead and get used to it, Because I know it’ll happen again. It just seems no matter what I do I can’t win. And even if it seems like everything is great, The truth is the world ain’t so great. I guess I should just get used to it.” He stayed there, humming the song and singing what verses pleased him until he finally sighed and turned back the way he had come. His feet were cold and he shivered as he trudged back towards his house. “Should’ve worn shoes. It’s the middle of winter, who walks outside without shoes?” He smiled to himself, “Only idiots, Nat, only idiots.” He chuckled and grinned, color returning to his face as he felt his soul begin to reform. The walk back was much faster than the walk into the woods, and he ran through the frozen world rather than stop and admire it. Within a few minutes, he was back at the door to his house. He quickly swung the door open and walked inside. The fireplace was still ready to be lit and he walked over to it, “Maybe I’ll go on a trip,” he said as he pulled out a matchbox. “Somewhere I haven’t been before.” He smiled at the thought. The heaviness in his chest was still there, but he could bear it now. He glanced outside his window and saw that the wind had died down. “Good,” he said, “ ‘Bout time that storm stopped.” He smiled again. It wasn’t a happy smile, nor was it a sad smile. It was the smile of someone who understood one of life's greatest mysteries. Nat looked down at the small pile of wood as he struck a match and started to light a fire. The flames licked the wood and flared to life. He sighed in relief as he felt the warmth flow into his hands. He was happy to be warm again. He looked outside and saw the wind flurry one last time before it died out. It was the middle of winter. He knew he’d never get used to the cold, no matter how many times it came.