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.