The ice slips under my feet as I race across the frozen lake.

The water underneath makes the clack of my heeled boots echo.

I can not stop running. I keep chasing the white shadow.

I first saw it as I inspected my broken-down car, the interior somehow emptied and hollowed.

Its eyes were empty and hollow as it stared through me, hair drained of any shine.

Its white feathered coat hung from its form; the white shadow almost blended into the snow.

I saw my breath, yet its stare was colder than the air. I wrapped my red coat tighter.

The rain falls clear until it hits the frozen lake, droplets shattering into crystal fragments.

I find a diamond nested in feathers. It is not ice; it is not cold against my fingertips.

Standing on black charcoal in the middle of the lake, the white shadow stares with an icy gaze.

I slip the diamond into my slingshot. The red elastic shoots. The shadow falls, ungiving.

My face goes white. My heart goes frozen; I clutch it as I stumble toward the body.

But there is no white shadow. I stand over myself, crimson staining the white feathered coat.

I fall over, cry. My knees turn red from the sharp stone, my eyes turn red from tears.

When I open them, I find only a white bird. I stand alone, its stiff corpse in my hands.

I stare until my eyes sting, but it is always a bird. I discard it on that black charcoal island.

I walk home, shivering in the pouring rain, heart still throbbing in my chest.

I never feel complete again.