I can feel the ground whispering as I continue in the shoes which were never imagined for this walk. My dear, sweet mother, would choke on her breath if she saw me out here, wearing strapped, high heeled dress shoes in the forest covered in snow. I love it.

I might see him now, or is that another tree? He never did promise that he would come. But I came anyway. I am always seeking. I must always know. A tree again. No? Yes. Nothing moves in this forest but me. Everything hides but the woman in a black ball gown who doesn't know where she's going. He will not come. He isn't here.

I don't know how I missed him. He's there, and now I'm the one standing still. Hiding, behind the snowflakes, watching the one who's been watching. And now I feel my smile. Now I will finally know the truth, and I would run to him, but I can't trust these shoes.

No matter because he has come to me with a grin I might never have imagined on a face that always looks so solemn for everyone else. Now I will have my answer.
"What glows without flame, can be quenched with a thought, is made of tears, and never is hot?"
"You really want to know?"
"I came, didn't I?"
He takes a step back, and hold out his empty hand. As I look into his eyes, I don't know what I'm seeing, and then--it's impossible, but so real in this forest with the cold falling all around us, and my shoes ruined forever, and this man, I used to know--he's holding a ball of light that came from nowhere but inside of him.