"You always told me there was something extraordinary waiting for me upon cresting the next hill," Dawn started, her bag knocking against the doorframe as she turned and closed the room, "if only I dared to take an interest and approach it."

"I'm certain you only wanted to shut me up with those words, have me occupied with looking for this special something. Alas, hence it was what you told me the last time we spoke, it stuck to my head for hours on end." She took two steps to close the distance between herself and the bed.

"At some point, I stopped seeing the metaphor and began taking an interest. I don't know what I expected to find, how I thought it could fill that hole. Nonetheless, I halted on each hilltop, spun in circles, and searched." Her deep black eyes wandered to the cleaned window and scanned the hills that formed outside. Was there one she hadn't stood upon, drawing circles into the ground?

"Left with no clue of what exactly I was to find on the crest of a hill somewhere near, I grasped what I could. A cat crossed my path on the peak, and I followed. A pretty flower grew – more or less – centered on the hill, so I picked it." Dawn's eyes swung towards the colorful vase where she had put all the flowers that hadn't turned out to be extraordinary. They looked as if they'd soon crumble to dust. How long had she not been here?

The girl's slender fingers picked up the wilted flowers, petals once as vibrant as the red nail polish Dawn was wearing. Her beige skin looked pale in contrast. "I hope you'll excuse me not bringing flowers this time, there aren't many in winter – and to be honest, I wasn't looking for a while. I-" She hesitated.

"I think I've fallen in love." Black eyes wandered to the floor as she broke the news. "Unlike the times I had told you about as a child, the ones that made me run from hillside to hillside. This was different." Dawn's eyes shot back up. Was that the slightest hint of a smile on her mother's face?

"Don't smile at me yet, I know you'll hate me for loving a girl. You always disliked my fascination for women, acting as if it wasn't attraction." Whatever she had seen on her parent's lips was gone, the impression of a frown now lingered there. Naturally, there had been no movement, but why not play pretend?

She tucked a silky black – almost even dark blue – strand behind her ear as she watched her mother's face. Dawn could tell that the woman was becoming weaker as time was taking its toll.

"Lucky for me, this time you can't cut me off." Dawn rounded the bed to a wider spot of the room, continuing her monologue. "Yes, it was as you had said. I crested the hill that lay between home and college, the same as every morning. Still, I spun a circle and watched." While remembering, she had closed her eyes and lightly swung her arm backward, rotating on her toes. Then, abruptly halting, just like on that hilltop. "There was it. A divergence from the memorized surroundings - tracks of bicycle wheels through this year's first snow, leading past blooming holly bushes."

"Unnecessary to tell, I immediately followed. That wasn't something I decided on anymore, it had become instinct. Rounding trees and bushes I came to learn I had never really crested that hill before." When she opened her eyes, she was looking out the window and – as she wanted to believe – at the hill where they had met, the covering snow having multiplied since then.

"There was one more slope, ever so tiny. The path was short, the rise gentle, but it meant I had never reached the peak. And now, there at the highest point which had eluded me for so long, stood a tall woman, her white hair drifting in the wind, her ruby eyes directed toward me."

Dawn's monologue came to a stop as the college student placed her sports bag next to the bed. She pulled off her beanie while undoing the buttons on her raspberry-colored coat. "Telling you about all of this wasn't my sole reason for coming here, of course. It's that time of the year again, so as always, I brought the box."

Out of habit her hand wandered to untie her scarf but grabbed thin air. "Oh, right," she sighed after a second of panic, "I lost my scarf. You know, the one you gave me when I was little?"

A memory replayed in Dawn's head as she started unpacking. She grimaced. It wasn't easy to push aside the pictures of wrapping a cold and broken girl in her scarf, helping her hide the pointy ears on her head. Even once she had managed that, those eyes, those damned eyes, haunted her. Heavens but she is beautiful.

"I'll get to the rest in a moment, first I'll set everything up. I know how important all of this is to you." The sports bag revealed a beat-up carton labeled with Christmas in careful handwriting. The box had clearly been through more than one ride in a bag like this – its edges were torn, the sides bent. Without even opening the box, Dawn could already see half the box's contents. Next year she'll get a new box. Surely, this time.

"How about I'll put the tree near the window this year? I know, I know, putting the tree next to the heater is dangerous, but I'll be here if anything happens."

The plastic Christmas tree was old and small, but it had to suffice. It's not like she can afford to spend money on decorations.

"The tree certainly has seen better days... remember when we used to have a real one each year? In some, you struggled to put the star on top because the ceiling was too close." Dawn sauntered back and forth to decorate the room, reminiscing about a time where things had been different.

"Once you brought a tree that didn't even fit our living room! You were so sure it wouldn't be too tall, but in the end, we had to cut off a few inches. It's a wonder no one got hurt, seeing as sawing wasn't one of Dad's best quali-" Her voice cut off at once. Silence followed.

Seconds that felt like hours passed, and the student broke the quiet in a tiny voice, "Sorry. Shouldn't have mentioned him. I know I promised."

It had been far over a decade – Heavens, so long already? – since Dawn's father had vanished. She still hoped to get her mother to tell the reason. In the past, all her questions were met with no more than mad yelling.

"Anyhow, where was I," Dawn spoke to put an end to the stillness and continued hanging Christmas ornaments on the crooked ceiling lamp. Weird, when had that happened? "Right, so there on that hill I saw her – tall, pale skin, wrapped in a scarf. And very nervous." Dawn grinned.