Category: Portfolio – Prose

by Sydney Cloutier ’27 on October 23, 2025

Pieces of the sky float down to the earth in little white specks, piling up on the road in front of me. Toe-to-heel and heel-to-toe, I walk one foot in front of the other, hands stuffed into my pockets. The silent white world echoes each footfall. The dust from up above kisses my skin as it falls onto my cheeks with care. The darkness that has swallowed up the sun hugs the tall pines on either side of the road, casting shadows in the night. The lack of light deceives me for just a moment, allowing me to forget. I let the relief of that moment flood my senses and soothe the chill that has begun to creep up on me. I continue to disrupt the cold white clouds that have grown thicker on the road with each step I take. Each time my foot meets the ground a small puff of smoke surrounds where I used to be. In an hour or so, the footprints will have disappeared. The fallen sky will hide any evidence that I was here. That I once stood amongst these trees and walked along this road. The trees won’t remember me or the vapor that erupts from my mouth with every sharp exhale. In an hour or so, the sun will rise on this white-coated landscape, bathing the world in pink and orange light. Sunlight will filter through the pine needles and create hopeful silhouettes on the road. In an hour or so, I will flee from the cold that now sits in my bones and forces my teeth to clatter. I will no longer have to worry about the overdue rent or fixing up the totaled car I left four miles back. In an hour or so, the snow will envelop me and the sun will peek up over the horizon, showering the world in light that I will never see.