Winter fell and it fell hard, and there was different about him in the winter.

Something closed behind those steely-grey eyes as the weather turned cold, curling up at the edges the way the leaves did before they turned brown and fell from the trees. Something like a wall made out of a cold wind was erected around the warm tenderness of his heart.

Closing in and closing me out.

Winter froze him a little bit, but it was more than that. It was as though he became suddenly afraid, as the warmth drained from the weather.

We held hands, and he kept me at an arm’s length.

And so winter frosted up the windows, which turned the same color as his eyes and the metal-like sheet of ice that covered up the lake.

Yes, something was different about him in the winter, something small and vague and inaccessible. And he curled up and he curled in, like the brown leaves or a piece of paper as it burned at the corners, hiding away the best part of himself.

Sealing himself off behind his grey grey eyes.