The couple exits the lobby and its Christmas music and steps into the
grey. They cut across the parking lot and disappear into a row of
snow-coated cedars. They follow the path between fields, past empty
lodges. The sky darkens. They stop.
— When are you coming back?
He stares at horses in the field beyond the fence. The horses are
completely still. How do they stand the cold?
— Do you love me?
He looks at her and sees the snow falling on her hot cheek. He resists
the urge to brush it off.
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