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.