8:32 p.m.

They noticed on their walk home this afternoon that yesterday's snow had already melted. And instead of the flurries that had gracefully settled on their eyelashes, raindrops now pelted their exposed noses. He swung the plastic bagful of groceries. She held his gloved hand in hers. It had been a good day. A wake-up-at-noon day. They would make a dinner. They would share a bottle of wine. They'd light the candles in the nonworking fireplace and listen to Christmas music. The house would never be warm enough. Their feet would stay cold all night. But their cheeks would be radiant, and they'd be happy nonetheless.