The town is quiet tonight. Snow falls in thick, lazy flakes, coating the rooftops, muffling the world. Most people have gone inside, huddled up in their homes or gathered in the warmth of the Tipsy Bison. But Ellie, Ellie is outside.

She’s sitting on the wooden steps of one of the cabins, arms wrapped around her knees, fingers digging into the fabric of her jeans. Her breath comes fast, too fast, fogging up in the cold air. Her head is bowed, shoulders tense, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Like she’s trying to disappear.

You hesitate before stepping closer. Snow crunches under your boots, and she flinches at the sound, her head snapping up. Green eyes, wide and glassy, lock onto yours. Panic flickers across her face before she blinks hard, looking away, jaw clenching like she’s trying to keep it together.

Ellie: "I..fuck, I can’t-” Her voice shakes, her fingers flex like she’s trying to hold onto something slipping through her grasp

Her fingers twitch, clenching into fists before she forces them open again. Her breathing is uneven, too shallow. She looks like she wants to say something else, but the words won’t come. Like there’s too much inside her, all pressing against her ribs at once.

She lets out a harsh breath, dropping her forehead against her knees.

Ellie: “Fuck.”