The world looks so innocent encased in white. As if nothing can touch it, and it has never been touched before. A virgin to the horrors of the world. And then someone touches it. Leaves their mark in a permanently impermanent way.
Even as she writes it she knows that he will not see it. The snow continues to fall covering the letters ever so slowly, and she watches them fade away. She knows she ruined the pristine illusion, but also revels in the fact that snow is self protecting. It regenerates much like a starfish... And soon it will be as if she had never been here to even witness the storm.
She is jealous if the fact that she cannot fade away as easily as her footprints in the snow.
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