The clicks of her heels on the pavement seem especially loud in comparison to the dull thunks of my boots. It’s even worse in comparison to the almost obnoxious silent between us, so much so that I almost wonder if she planned this.
New snow falls softly; it’s just cold enough for it to stick, and just a thin, nearly invisible layer of it on the ground. I look at her out of the corner of my eyes; her cheeks are slightly flushed, and her nose a rosy red. I feel myself smiling, and she catches me.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
She self-consciously tucks her dark brown hair behind her ear and straightens her green scarf; the very one I’d bought her last winter. She then straightens her coat, and sticks her hands in her pockets. She sighs.
I press my lips together and clear my throat. She looks at me nervously, and studies the sidewalk.
After a while, she says, “I just don’t know what to do.”
I glance at her; she’s rub