"To the woman with hands of white"

She finally decided to throw out of the pink roses when they began to reek of death. Lip quivering, she turned away. At least she still had the letter. Scented with drops of perfume and adorned with lace, the thing made her smile. For now at least. It’d been months since she received another, but the presence of this one drained a bit of the melancholy from her heart.

“To the woman with hands of white. Are you enjoying the roses? I would’ve sent you more, like this dove that I only managed a drawing of. I admit, I don’t appreciate them the way you do, but it’s enough to drive away this maddening silence. It’s snowing over the ocean and no one dares venture outside. It is beautiful though, like lily petals. I’m only frustrated, though. Please don't worry about me, I just miss you…”

The vast, blue ocean. Mystifying waves dotted with the falling of snow. It was true, the image was so beautiful… and yet she couldn’t help but cry. Picturing her beloved staring at the night sky, bundled in the cold, a tear crystalized in the corner of a glassy eye, it ate away at her. Staring at the parchment, now with distinct folds and a frayed corner, she wondered if she would ever be happy again.