It’s snowing. It’s snowing and he’s not here. Five years of making snowmen and throwing snowballs at each other was gone, and you were standing in the snow feeling eerily alone. He doesn’t know you anymore. It’s been five months. Your favorite food changed. Your favorite movie you now hate. But your love for him is the same. It always has and always will be. “I can’t wait for you,” you whisper to the man in front of you. “Don’t.” “Just one more discussion?” “..One more.” It’s cold, isn’t it?