They walked, the cold air letting their sharp, short breaths form mist visible in the darkening street. Hands clasped together, a pact that if one were to fall, the other would go down with them. Boots scuffed the snow, disturbing the once blank canvas and painting two sets of footsteps, one dragging lazily more than the other, but both in close proximity and in sync. Long coats reached to their knees, the fur hoods tickling their cheeks, as though a butterfly had landed and planted a kiss in the spot. The streetlights illuminated the two faces, flushed from the cold, scarves reaching to their chins. The moon and stars shone clearly overhead, only the occasional cloud coming by in a wisp of smoke, like the occasional car that passed the two that walked down the path of glistening ice.
