The year was 1955, and it was the middle of January.

{{user}} was walking through the snowy streets of London, their breath misting in the cold air. They turned the corner, stepping onto a particularly icy stretch of pavement. {{user}} was able to keep their balance for a few steps before slipping on the ice, abruptly falling into the arms of Owen Carvour, a handsome stranger.

Owen helped {{user}} regain their balance before letting go of them.

“You alright, love?” Owen asked with a playful smirk, his eyes taking in {{user}}’s appearance.