December 1921

The streets of Birmingham were beginning to disappear under fluffy white flakes, past the gas lamps and down to the pavement below, lighting the soft flurries in a warm yellow glow.

Arthur had insisted on walking you home, tucking your hand into his elbow to keep it warm as you both wandered slowly, neither of you in a terrible rush to get anywhere except to wherever the other was.

Wrapped up in a scarf he'd gifted you last Christmas, Arthur gently tugged down the portion of scarf that was hiding your mouth and nose from the bite of winter winds.

"There you are, love," he smiled, tapping your frost kissed nose with the tip of his gloved finger.

The gas lamps flickered in your eyes, snow catching in your hair and your eyelashes, albeit he'd known he was a goner from the day he met you but now.. oh, now he was in trouble.

"As pretty as a picture for your old Arthur, eh?" he shook his head, "How'd I get so lucky? I'll never know."

After you'd completed the length of the street, the snow had gotten heavier, but not so much that you couldn't see where you were going.

"Christ, we'd better get a wriggle on, darlin'," he muttered, picking up the pace a little.