Much could have been different, but then again not. A detail. A curl at the edge of his lips, a smile. A single smile, perhaps, but nothing else. What is left, no one can touch. It is as it should be. The mountain birch with its paper-thin bark. The scent of his sweater and the tenderness of his gaze; the mountains within him. Something to lean on, something firm. Eyes that want to drown in his and disappear into that world; this is what she wants. Everything is a question of time, and in that light, the pieces fall where they must. Never let impatience steer your course, and don`t long too hard. Let the time pass, let the chips fall, be still and see what happens.
She is standing in the darkness. Further away, there are other cabins; much further away. Her face is pale behind the pane of glass. Outside, the torrent rushes and the sky is devoid of clouds, but clouds are not what she is looking for.