“I was like you once,” she said, with her face still buried in my shirt. “I didn't care about the cold in the world. I never wore a jacket, because I didn't need protection. The truth is, I saw you outside and all I could think about were the old times, before I was so...so jaded. I envy you.”
I looked down at her. I still didn't say a word. I just unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it off of her arms. They were bare underneath. She looked up at me. I looked down at her. I ran my fingers along her arm. It was cold and peppered with goosebumps. We held eye contact for a long time, holding each other in the middle of the street.
“I'm sorry,” she said, “but once you need the jacket, you can never go back.”
“Yes you can,” I whispered to her. There was a knowledge boiling in me that my words were futile. I struggled to find the ones that would hold her here, but none came.
“I'm sorry,” She said, and pressed her hand against my chest before pushing herself away. She disappeared into the snow.
I stood there, still holding her jacket. I put it on. My bare feet were freezing.