Eternal Snow

Yuki opened her eyes for the first time in ten years. A nurse came by to open up her cryogenic tube, but she almost didn’t want to leave. It was icy cold, but comforting in a strange sort of way, like a nice chilly day in the middle of a heatwave. After all her years in the tube, Yuki wasn’t sure if she really wanted to adjust to her life in the open world.

The glass reflected her olive green eyes almost like a mirror. They looked older and wiser then before, like they had been trapped in time.

Perhaps it was just the smoke from the cold. 

Yuki sat up, but she felt dizzy, as if time was catching up to her. The nurse gave a faint smile as she sat her back down. 

“Don’t worry dear, we’ll shut off the cold. Gravity’s catching up to you,” she then gestured towards a wheelchair next to her. “Sit down here, if you can.”

After maneuvering her way into the wheelchair and out of a short explanation of how to use it, Yuki wheeled herself around the room with all the people, still frozen in time. The room was darkly lit, the only light coming from the reflective glass of the tubs. She watched the people’s aging faces as they lay silently, waiting for what was to come in the future they would inevitably have to face. Some had another 10 years to go. Some had 20. One even had 50. All were different ages and genders, races and demographics. Everyone was coming from different parts of the galaxy, traveling to Earth and other planets nearby. 

This was Yuki’s second time being cryogenically frozen. She had been born on Earth, but was traveling back after two years of work on a more effective form of travel in deep space. Why it had to be down there, she didn’t know, but they obviously weren’t well enough advanced in their work for a more efficient way for Yuki to travel back home. 

In total, she had been gone twenty two years. That’s twenty two years without her family, without her friends, without the comfort of her home. Twenty two years of her life lost, like a whisper in the wind. Twenty two years she would never get back. 

Yuki rolled her way out of the dark room and into a bedroom the nurse had instructed her to go to. It had a lit lamp and a window, but still looked dark and dreary, as if it had been abandoned many times over. As she brought herself closer to the bed, she noticed a marking on a wall, where someone had carved their name. 

The nurse had said that she had to stay there for her first few weeks back while she rejuvenated. She would be allowed visitors, but hardly expected them. Her parents had both died, and her siblings barely talked to her in their letters. Only a casual hello, asking how she was, informing her of their parent’s death. The only person who actually tried communicating with her over the two years she wasn’t asleep for was Milo, and she hardly expected a visit from him. Not after she didn’t write back to any of his letters. Not after she ignored him.

It wasn’t that Yuki wanted to ignore Milo - he was her best friend. She just didn’t feel like responding to him at first. She wanted to leave her old life behind and start somewhere new, where people didn’t have to know her for who she used to be and just work with new people. As she adjusted, she started to want to more, but by then it was too late. If she wanted to write to him, it would take months to get her letter back to Earth, and by then, what was the point? She’d still have ignored him. Nothing really would have changed.

So Yuki never wrote to Milo. And chances were, he wouldn’t even try to visit her when she was back. Besides, he was a full adult now. He probably had his own new life. Why would he want her in it again?

It had been ten years since she had heard from him, and twenty two years since he had heard from her. There was nothing to talk about. The friendship was dead. 

“Miyuki Sasaki? A bright, chipper voice said from the other side of the door. “You have a visitor!”

Great. Probably one of her siblings, coming to tell her the house they all grew up in was ready for her to move back into. As if she wanted to move back in with them. 

“Yuki?” a tentative voice said from the other end of the door, while the nurse’s footsteps grew softer. “Are you there?”

Yuki gave a small gasp. Wait, was that…

“Milo?” she whispered, steering herself back into her wheelchair to open the door. “Is that really you?”

“I guess,” came Milo’s reply as Yuki opened the door, revealing not the boy she remembered, but a young man with the same dark brown eyes and hair. He was much much taller, and had aged significantly. HIs eyes that were once full of hope were now a little bit grayer. His smile that was once bright now felt strained. 

His smile reminded her of him laughing when they were younger, though. It reminded her of how they used to be so close. How they were best friends.

She remembered hugging him before she entered the cryogenic chamber, saying goodbye, promising that she’d write, even if it would take forever for him to read it. Oh, how she wished she had now. She wished so hard, so much, that she had responded to his letters. 

“Milo,” Yuki started, not knowing what to say, “you don’t have to visit me out of pity. I know I should have kept in contact. I just-”

Milo’s voice grew softer. “It’s alright, Yuki,” he said, smiling again. “I know that you wanted a new life. I moved on, too. Our friendship wasn’t perfect. You didn’t need to write to me.”

Yuki sighed again, wiping away a tear from her eyes. She really had missed Milo, in the two years she spent away from him. Twenty two years was a whole different story. She couldn’t even fathom how he felt. 

“No,” she said, wiping away another tear. “I should have. I...I actually did.”

The lie game out of her mouth so easily. Perhaps because it wasn’t really a lie, she thought, thinking desperately of the little pile of letters she had written back home in her dorm at the space station.

“Yuki...you don’t need to lie to me. I know you didn’t write. It’s really not a big deal. At least I get to hear your voice now.” Milo’s smile faltered as he blinked back his own tears.

Yuki closed her eyes, thinking again of Milo’s letters. She remembered one in particular. It was after she had found out her parents had died, by way of her sister, and was heartbroken. About a month later, she received a letter from Milo apologizing on her sister’s behalf of her blunt tone. He wrote that he would always be there for her, no matter what. 

That was the first time Yuki had drafted a letter back. She thanked him, telling him that her sister’s tone didn’t matter, even though it really did. She spilled her heart out, telling him of the work she did in deep space and the people she was meeting. About how she missed her parents desperately, but knew now that she’d never see them again for certain. 

And then she put it on a pile on her dresser in her little dorm room with a wide window overlooking the stars, and stared at them until she fell asleep, watching them shine like the little balls of light they were. Like little snowflakes, brightening up the sky. 

But by the time she woke up, she knew she couldn’t send the letter. It would take months to arrive, and he wouldn’t even be able to respond by then. By that time, she would already be back in the cryogenic chambers, frozen in time again, like the stars in her window, just a reflection of what they were from another time. 

There was just no point. 

“I did write to you,” she said, carefully. “But I never sent the letter.”

At this, Milo let out a faint laugh, as he stopped blinking furiously. “I figured that out, Yuki. There’s no way you could’ve just ignored me for all that time.”

A wave of awkwardness fell over the two as Yuki realized how long Milo was probably waiting for that letter. She thought again of the cryogenic tube and how badly she had wanted to stay there, asleep, away from her problems. Just stuck in the cold. 

“I guess,” she said, running her hands through her short brown hair. 

Milo smiled again, as he reached out to hold Yuki’s hand. “Let’s go outside. I heard it’s supposed to snow soon.”

Yuki laughed, gesturing towards the handles for him to push her wheelchair. She thought again of the cold in the tubes, the cold that kept her trapped in time. 

Yuki felt the rush of the wind as she and Milo, her best friend again, entered the cold, watching the snowflakes fall. Yuki thought of the stars in deep space, as they reflected themselves from years ago, showing a younger version of themselves. 

Like snowflakes, holding an eternal snow.