Ella

Ella. It was like a name from one of those fashion magazines. Ella, Ella. Ella-phant. No, not ella-phant. Just Ella. He’d seen her dancing down the street with her little sister. Walking, dancing, skipping to school every morning, thin little braids bouncing up and down on her jacket, cheeks cold and rosy from the icy wind that blew all around them and covered the road in a layer of frost. Oh, Ella, Ella, Ella. The name was stuck in his thoughts, tumbling round and round like an avalanche in winter, threatening to destroy him, engulf him, bury him softly in a field of snow.

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