Creative Writing: Log Cabin

It’s snowing outside. Snowflakes drift slowly down to the ground, bright against the dark night sky, illuminated by the warm light coming from the window. A sudden breeze blows, and the snowflakes follow, a flurry of white swirling in the wind, before resuming their downwards trajectory to join so many others of their kind in piling heaps of snow.

Inside, two skiing jackets, damp from the day’s activities, hang from their respective chairs. The log cabin is quiet, the only sound that of a fire crackling in the hearth. It is past midnight, and the remains of dinner lay scattered on the floor around a thick fur rug. They are accompanied by two empty glass flutes and what is left of two bottles of white wine.

The rug, cleverly placed in front

Nobody’s telling them what to do, or where to go, or who to talk to next. The weight of the galaxy no longer rests on their shoulders and, after everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve lived through, they can finally catch a break. They have time, and time is exactly what they are taking. No more quick kisses behind terminals, no more hurried words and stolen moments as they wait for what is to come. Just the two of them, alone in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, with time to spare and a million ways to spend it

She shifts and presses closer, seeking his natural body heat in her half-drunk sleepiness, then releases a contented sigh and lets her eyes drift shut once more. His mandibles flick in endearment. He loves her. He can say it now, and he will repeat it over and over until she gets tired of hearing it, if that day ever comes at all. He’s making up for all the times he had wanted to say the words and couldn’t, for all the times that they got caught in his throat and were replaced with something less terrifying instead. He loves her, and he fully intends to spend the next century with her at his side, if she will have him. For now, however, he will close his eyes too and join her in his