The Second First Snow

“I thought you quit smoking?” A voice cuts through your grumbling, and you look up to see him, hair fanning the sides of his face and the back of his nape. ‘He looks pretty’, you think, while you probably look haggard and tired.His eyelashes bat delicately across his skin, cheeks plump and lips glistening with balmYour lips part as a strained voice echoes through the both of you “That was before we—” you stutter, “before we broke up?”—They say that if you spend time with someone on the first snow, your love would be forever as if frozen in time. This year, you spend it with your ex-lover.