Numb hands rubbed in the darkness, trying to catch the last hints of warmth from the dying embers.
–We’re not gonna make it, are we?
–Well, we still have a fighting chance… just not a very good one.
The wind kept blowing outside the broken fuselage, pushing icy bits of snow thru every crack.
–It could be weeks before they even find the wreckage, and longer yet to get here in this weather.
–Who knows? The storm might clear up before morning.
–Always the optimist.
Tattered pieces of metal kept rattling and groaning in the night.
–How much longer before the sun rises?
–I’m not quite sure, a couple of hours maybe.
–They say the trick is not letting yourself fall asleep.
–Yeah, I’ve heard that too.
Tiny ice jewels slowly began to envelop every surface, turning the fallen iron bird around two huddled bodies into a magic cavern.
–You still awake?
–Yeah, still here.
–Maybe we should do something to pass the time.
–Besides gradually freezing to death, you mean?
–Really, my dear, must you be so morbid?
–I’m just being realistic.
–Well, if you’re going to be such a party pooper… I guess sharing this with you is out of the question.
–Where did you get that!?
–I found it right here. Anyway, under the circumstances, does it really matter?
–You do realize it’s not exactly the best of ideas, right?
–Well, it IS at the ideal temperature. And I said before, does it really matter?
–No, I guess not.
A loud pop echoed within their tiny slice of life, pausing the whole world to everything but two perfect champagne glasses, ceremoniously clinking over a broken picnic basket.