I’m falling into the road, and she’s dancing on the thin ice of life. I can smell so many memories and scents, each one as intoxicating as the wine and whiskey that sweat out of me as the parade passes through streets we both love and hate. One minute we’re on the top of a hill throwing snowballs at each other, and then we’re in the underpass kissing like we’re strangers. My hands search her out, and when they rest upon her hips, it’s as if the meaning of life were as known to me as the warm and familiar voice of my grandmother. When we get hungry, we go to this place near where we work and order a large portion of cheesy chips and two chocolate milkshakes. Touching feet under the table, she leans across and kisses me. Letting the kiss linger, I bring up a little food, and between our mouths, we share it like birds in the nest. We could spend the weekend in bed, or we could walk the streets hand in hand not wishing for anything but the moment to last forever. Leaning back in our chairs, we breathe for a bit as a group of kids come in shouting. They throw snow around and kick over a few chairs before darting back out into the crowds that line the pavement outside. It’s not snowing as much as it has been, but the cold still makes us ache in places we wish it didn’t. The clock on the wall says it’s a little after nine, but it doesn’t mean a thing. We could go on drinking? Could get so drunk that when we roll in the snow down by the river on our way back to mine, we won’t feel anything but love? Yeah, let’s do that. The crowds heave and we push through. She leads. She always leads. There are flashing lights and the smell of food is enough to make me hungry again almost immediately. Everything looks so different. Gone is the mundane. Gone the boring faces we’re so used to replaced with magic and colour and that all-important lack of time. Dragging my heels, I look about me as if in a dream and pull her back, and as she turns to face me with her fingers still linked with mine, the snow begins to fall once more.