February 11, 2013

My dearest,

The tower is beautiful this morning but the air is chilly. Soft, drifting snow falling upon our cheeks and not melting. We type the keycode our landlord gave us and squeeze into an elevator so tiny it wouldn’t fit the two of us if we ate any more baguettes. We throw our bags onto the wood-panelled floor and drop on the sofa in the living room. Here are the last rays of sun before the noonday sleet is scheduled to begin. Let us warm our hands against the radiator and press our noses against the windows. Who knows? Maybe we can see the tower from here too. The tower and the rest of our lives.

Yours, ever and always.