I found you laying in snow that was the whitest of whitest of white. Your body was as cold as your father’s heart, if not even more so. Short grey puffs of air floated out your mouth as you gently exhaled, and I just stared. I stared at your life escaping your mouth and your chest didn’t look as opaque as it should. I brought my face down to hear your heart fluttering in it’s cage. I kept it there. I was there for what was a long time to me, but a short time to a watch. No clouds flowed out from between your progressively blueing lips and the soft ticking in your ribs ceased. You were still, serene, you matched the snow perfectly. I didn’t want to move. Maybe I was imitating you. My hands were growing numb in the cruel december air. By the time I clasped my fingers with yours neither of us could feel it at all.