Snowfall of the Heart
The mountain town of Hallstatt was blanketed in snow, its rooftops shimmering under the winter moon. For Clara, a travel writer seeking solitude, the trip was meant to be a retreat. She wanted silence, a pause from deadlines and heartbreak. On her first evening, she slipped into a small lodge café, where the fire crackled and locals gathered. That’s where she noticed Erik — a ski instructor with kind eyes and a quiet presence. He sat alone, sketching maps of trails. Their eyes met briefly. Clara smiled politely. Erik returned it, then asked, “First time here?” “Yes,” she replied. “I came for the quiet.” He chuckled. “Then you chose the right place. Unless you count the snowstorms.” Over the next days, Clara and Erik crossed paths often — at the café, on the trails, in the town square. Erik offered to show her hidden spots: frozen lakes, quiet paths, and viewpoints where the mountains looked endless. Clara admired his patience, the way he explained the rhythm of the snow. Erik admired h...