These small town streets are lined with snow. I turn around and around, not sure from which way I came.
“Its modeled after a tree”, a voice tells me.
I turn around and Miki is there.
“This part is the trunk. It is the simplest part of the tree.”
We have been acquainted for over a year now.
“You know this place like the back of your hand”, I say to her. She nods.
“I’ve lived here all my life”, she states. Her face betrays no emotion.
“So we are in the trunk right now?”, I ask, looking around and even at the sky, grey and pregnant with snow.
“Yes”, she replies. “The simplest part.”
“Then that is neither a testament to your memory nor my ability to navigate”, I say.
Miki neither smiles nor frowns, but stands there, as our breath spirals through the dry winter air and disappears.
“Do you want me to walk with you? I can show you the route back home again.”
“Sure”, I reply.
Her footsteps crunch towards me over the unshoveled avenue, and as we meet, we begin to walk together.