Free Steady as the Snow Falls by Lindy Zart

checking up on him, whatever he would call it, Beth flung on her coat, boots, and hat, and stomped through the snow in the direction of the hills behind the house. Before she even reached the hill, she was spent, her breaths coming fast and ragged, sweat lining her body beneath her clothes. Her leg muscles burned from tramping through the thick snow and her lungs ached from sucking in frigid air.
    Harrison seemed miles away, a pinpoint on a map high and far in the distance. She squinted her eyes against the bright whitish-blue sky, and the falling snow, pausing to catch her breath at the base of the hill. Beth put out a hand and let it collect snowflakes, the speed of them languid as if to be better enjoyed. They were dainty, and frail, unique. Beautiful bits of impermanence. She told herself to stop procrastinating, and with a sigh, she took the first step to reach her employer.
    The path was treacherous, uneven, and unnecessary. Exercise was great, and she enjoyed walking, but not through difficult snow. Beth cursed Harrison as she journeyed the hillside, some of the names quite colorful. Butt-monkey quickly became a favorite, because only a butt-monkey would venture up an undisturbed hill of snow. She lost her boot once, fell three times, and twisted her ankle when she stepped down hard and met ground before she was ready for it. By the time Beth reached Harrison, she was out of words, and air, and she wanted to fall to the cold ground.
    “I’m not paying you to take long walks,” he said without turning.
    “You aren’t…paying me…to do…anything, really,” she gasped.
    Harrison glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark expression turning to amusement when he took in her snow-caked form. His gaze swept up and down the length of her, one corner of his mouth lifting. The humor she caught a glimpse of was refreshing. Dizzying. “Or to frolic in the snow.”
    “I fell,” she admitted sullenly. “Three times. And I lost one of my boots. I now have a foot, frozen by a layer of snow, inside my boot. I can’t feel it anymore.”
    “Are you thinking amputation?” he asked, his head tilted thoughtfully.
    “Did you just make a joke?” Beth quietly mocked.
    He faced forward without comment, his arms rigid at his sides, and took in the view. Beth sighed, deciding they weren’t quite to the teasing stage yet, if they ever would get there. She wanted to ask him if he was feeling okay. Even as he stood straight, the air around him crackling with life, it was clear he was fatigued, shadows under his eyes and all the color drained from his lips. She knew better than to ask it, biting her tongue when it became hard to keep the questions unspoken.
    He was standing. She focused on that.
    When the quiet got to be too much, Beth followed Harrison’s gaze, going still as awe washed over her in tones of pink and blue and yellow, reminiscent of the scene before her. Down the hill was a forest of trees surrounded by water. The trees were silhouettes, dark and spindly against the snow, mirrored back from the dark waters below. A thin layer of ice covered parts of it, adding character. It was like looking at an image that couldn’t be real but was, nature twisted in blackness and beauty. She glanced at Harrison, thinking of what life and death had decided for him, and seeing similarities between him and earthen artwork they studied.
    “I didn’t realize there was a lake back here.”
    “It’s the main reason I bought the house, and the land. You should see it in the spring, when the ice and snow are melting.” Harrison’s voice went soft, turned lyrical. “It is life and loss, meshed together in green and brown. Like a goodbye, and a hello. And the smell—everything is fresh and new.” He inhaled as if he was experiencing it. “It reminds me that I am nothing, and I like that.”
    He looked at her, a slash of emotion before blankness, and then he stared ahead. “I don’t matter. I’ll live, and I’ll die, and the