I lifted my coffee mug from the cafe table as I commented on the snow, receiving a murmur and a nod in response. I looked into my mug and I watched the snowflakes fall into the coffee and quickly disappear among the liquid blackness. Why he wanted to sit outside, I had no idea. I went along with it though. I liked watching him stare into the white blankets that covered the dead grass next to the sidewalks. He stared into the ice, in deep thought. The looks that always seemed to grace his face were those of concentration and intensity. He broke his stare with the snow and looked up at me, with that smile that made his dimples show. He outstretched his arm over the table, grabbing my hand. We sat in silence as he traced circles on my thumb. I asked him what he was thinking about, and he asked me how the snow can be so pure in a city that is so *****. I told him I didn't know. I really didn't. It was in that moment, watching him think about the snow, that I realized I loved him.

Looking back on that day, a year in the future, in this same cafe at the same table, I realized the reason why the snow was so beautiful that day; we loved each other. Everything was beautiful. The snow is grey now, stepped on by muddy snow boots and filled with decaying leaves. I wonder if it had always looked that way, even on that day that seemed so blindingly white. Our love was beautiful. The world was beautiful. Now I can see my heart lying on the ground, stepped on by muddy snow boots and filled with decaying leaves.