I’m almost sure the snow was falling. I could have sworn at one point but that time has passed. I remember standing next to you, looking up, looking at the sky, lowering my head and looking there: deserted, silent, snow falling, maybe. Does it really matter?
I can’t guarantee how we got there. I recall saying something about late at night being the right moment to be anywhere near there. We slid on shoes, glanced at each other while doing so, and walked out into the open.
When we returned, we fell into bed and the abandoned wreath hung on your door.