Marie left the theatre during a break in the snow. The others had already gone, taking advantage of the brief respite from the flakes falling from the sky and blowing on to unprotected skin and into the creases between collars and necks. Sometimes the snow felt like it had a mind of its own and was determined to make people, her in particular, as uncomfortable as possible.
The branches of the trees stretched toward the darkening sky, the flickering street lamps gilding the snow gathered on the branches. Marie liked the winter, when the trees were naked and showed their true forms. She wished it was as easy for her.
“Mademoiselle!”
Marie turned to see Janelle come up behind her.
“What are you doing here still? I thought you’d already left. This isn’t the kind of weather to be dawdling i
