That night they went to bed in air swollen from the light of street lamps. They embraced: they would make love, they would be forever warmed. They kissed. The sky flared. He moved over her body like a priest removing a curse. In the morning, deep within the drift, they listened for silence but the city crunched and roared; the plants, green as before, shivered in the open window. A few flurries spun to the dry pavement.