A Frozen Smile

An introspective short story about the parts of us that are stuck

In all of us, there lies something frozen.

For him, it’s his smile.

I don’t think I’ve seen it retract once, not even whilst we were speaking. Not whilst I tried to make him frown, nor whilst I pretended to look away only to sneak a glance out the corner of my eye.

No, his smile is still.

It must hurt, mustn’t it? It must grow tired.

It’s a cold smile. He’s clearly not happy, his words have betrayed him on that front. So why is it plastered so blatantly?

I stand a distance from him now, sipping my drink, “talking” with others, but secretly deep in my mind. Perhaps it is but a ploy? Perhaps it is true nonsense? Perhaps he really is happy? I just can’t see that though.

I want to take chisel to him, pick through those teeth, find what’s behind. Will I find he is all shell? Is that white barricade all there is to him?

It’s making me nauseous now. I tap my foot lightly, set down my drink so that I can twist my fingers. I just want to see a crack. It only has to be for a second. No longer. Just so I know it’s not frozen.

But it is.

But it is…

Who hurt him? Was it himself?

Is it true that my eyes have matched the state of his teeth in my fascination? Are they frozen too?

Who hurt me? Was it myself?

I melt through my own haze and pull away from him. I leave, but I don’t stop thinking about it.

I swear that I’ve seen that smile before. I certainly want to believe that I have. But it wasn’t the obligated, prolonged grin of a service worker, nor was it the faux, friendly grin of a newcomer. I’m not even sure it had the falseness I once prescribed it. It just looked off.

Maybe I am to be a therapist, I joke to myself. Maybe I have a knack for picking up when someone isn’t themselves.

Was the smile true to him though? I’m still not sure of that.

I huff frozen air through the break in my jacket.

There’s something frozen inside me too, I note. There’s something frozen in everyone walking around at this hour.

There are no other smiles, but that only makes it eerier. No, these people have unseen chills burrowing inside.

A frozen heart, stuck on something gone. Frozen lungs, unable to draw breath in fear. Frozen limbs, paralysed by trauma.

They all look rather unfrozen at a glance, but if you stare for long enough, you can see that the ice is very much there. It’s a kink in their composure, buried deep within every last one of them.

I really could be a therapist, I laugh a little under my breath at the thought. I’d make damn good money if I could find something wrong with everyone. Although I’m not so sure I’d be good at the melting part.

No, that’s best left to the professionals.

I make it back to my apartment. It’s dark inside. I don’t even bother turning any lights on, I just crawl into bed.

I’m still thinking about the man from earlier. His smile so hard, so unaffordable. What does he think about as he drifts off, I wonder. What keeps him up?

Does he smile whilst he sleeps?

When no one’s around?

Should… I?

I lay, staring at the ceiling for hours, picturing that smile. Not for a single breath, do the frosty clouds stop coming out of me.

I’m still frozen.

And so I start to think that maybe it wasn’t my eyes frozen before, but my brain.

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