Presented at the 2019 Luminaire Fine Arts Showcase at the University of Florida.

The icy wind whipped through the slumbering trees. Freshly fallen snow lay glittering upon the ground and nestled in the nooks and cusps of the outstretched boughs. The stark contrast between the rich, dark oaks and pure, alabaster snowfall attracted the attention of the young woman who wound her way among the meandering paths.

Shivering, she pulled her scarf higher upon her lips, releasing a sigh. It was only here in the depths of the park that she could forget the world that lay just beyond its boundaries. Deep down the trails and twists in this artificial forest, she was concealed from the glare of bright lights, the blare of horns, and the laughter of a joy that was all too false.

Sitting on a nearby bench, she glanced downward at the pale hands emerging from the bright red sleeves of her coat. They seemed so sickly compared to the crimson surrounding them, making her wish that she could assume the dulled palette of the world around her–that she could sink into the soft grays and never emerge. Perhaps become one of the many pigeons, so she could soar through the winter world, instead of watching it as an outsider.

Red. She tugged at the hem of the sleeve. Red as lipstick on a pair of smirking lips. Red as the stain those lips leave behind on a slender champagne glass. Champagne flows, bubbling and overflowing, its sweetness leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. Laughter bursts out, bolstering and bright, but it has a hollow ring . Faces blend and blur, each one smiling with too-white teeth.

Shuddering, she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, trying to shut out the images and colors that swirled behind her eyes–the world that awaited her beyond this sanctuary. A hand on her waist, clinging too tightly. A man whose grin was too wide, his teeth blinding.

Stop.

She opened her eyes, taking deep breaths, watching it burst out and curl into fog. She felt like plunging into the snow, to let the cold remind herself that this was reality. Reality was just as much this place of ice, snow, and trees. Reality was here, in this park. Reality was not the city peering in, with thousands searching for what they could not possess in the bottom of a glass, the pounding of piano keys, one too many kisses in the blanket of night.

She stood and kept walking, walking as fast as her legs could carry her, the trees blurring, figures passing by meaninglessly. She only stopped when her lungs burned and her legs were shaking, feet aching in her heels. She was unsure where she was, but the snow still shimmered on the ground, the trees still stretched up impassively.

A couple moved past her, catching her eye. They gave her small nods, polite and cursory. She couldn’t help but turn to watch as they walked away from her. Their coats were dull brown, like the earth. What did they think of her? The woman in red, amidst the rocks and iron lampposts.

As the couple strolled further, she saw the girl stumble, but the man caught her before she could fall, his steadying hand on her elbow. Even from this distance, she could see the way that he looked at her, with a small, close-lipped smile. But in that expression was more sincerity than she had witnessed in ages, so much so that she felt tears prick her eyes, even as the cavernous longing in her chest threatened to consume her.

She stared up at the sky, around at the park that enclosed her, shielded her, cradled her in its cold desolation. She reached out to the trees and placed a steadying hand on the bark, the uneven surface pricking the soft skin of her palm. Perhaps everything could be found here, in this fragile world of ice and snow. Perhaps all the answers were here. But until she knew, knew for certain, she would remain the woman in red, in the depths of a grey-white world.