A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.

The water crumbles on it's way down as my hands and feet push me forward. The world is lightening, taking shape, and turning to color. It feels like it's being painted around me.

The question is what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.

It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.

My voice is like a rumour. I'm not sure if it came out or not, or if it is true.

She even touches Jimmy's face on the photos, and I see what it is to love someone like Milla loved that man. Her fingertips are made of love.