Ice

There is a river. The river is frozen over. Leafless trees lining the path. The sun is rising, the sky purple and red. 

It’s January the first. New Year’s Day. 

Rosa is alone. 

She’s remembering the day her sister dared her to cross this frozen river. Remembering Dahlia’s cheeks blushed red, wisps of chestnut hair slithering from her winter hat. Colourless lips. The steam of breath as she teased and goaded, singing out ‘Scaredy-Cat, Scaredy-Cat’ in a voice mimicking an ad on TV. She’s remembering mittened fingers jabbing, sharp as arrows.

The ice looks like glass. Looks like glass but isn’t. 

It might hold her weight. It might not. 

She’s remembering that day. Breath squeezing. Heart racing. Wanting to tell her sister to shut the fuck up but finding no voice. 

She’s remembering that day as she steps out onto the ice, hoping this time it will crack.