I particularly remember walking through this neighborhood. It was my first time seeing snow. I was clearly unprepared, sporting boots that were guaranteed wet after a few minutes of walking across snow covered paths with you by my side. We spent hours walking. Exploring. Got coffee and drank it inside of your car with the heat blasting, trying to defrost my feet. We walked into a museum. We walked under a bridge and into a park where there were people walking their dogs and taking their afternoon jogs. I stepped up on a ledge and walked on it to give my wet feet a break from the snow piles. You laughed. I laughed between my chattering teeth. You were wearing a red hat and you looked like a sailor. I took a picture of you with mostly white in the background. Everything was so white it was almost comforting but I somehow knew. I knew enough to put my head down while you drove home. I knew enough to cry silently with my face hidden while Honey Bunny was playing on repeat. I knew I would never be your honey bunny. I just knew.
