You said you were going out to make a snow angel.
You asked if I wanted to join you. I wanted to, of course, because you look so cute in winter wear and because I love you. I refused, however, because I was mad at you.
I lost track of time.
When I looked out the window, I saw your snow angel under the willow tree where you had refused to marry me. I didn’t see you, however, in your snow angel.
I went downstairs and out the back door. My love? There were no footprints in the snow. Only your snow angel under our tree.
I walked out to your snow angel and prostrated myself inside it. It was warm and smelled of your perfume. I closed my eyes and let the cold eat at my body.
I walked out to your snow angel the following day and took up residence inside it. It was still warm and still smelled of your perfume.
Again the next day.
…
Your angel has begun to decay. It is dirty, unshapely. But still it is warm and possesses your scent.
When it is gone, will I have lost you?
Spring is coming.
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