• The snow had piled high against the window panes, frigid dancers clothed in intricate webs of ice, pressing themselves against the glass, as if looking in on the cozy warmth. Fingers of condensation reached up to blur the view of the suburban winter-scape where the frozen performers couldn’t land gracefully to peer in at the warmly-lit house. A tree stood in one corner of one room, far enough away from the fireplace that the tongues of flame couldn’t lick at its branches, but close enough to be warmed by the blaze. Tastefully wrapped gifts stood guard under the boughs, watching over the room, waiting to surprise their recipients, silver paper gleaming and twinkling in the firelight. Tinsel, draped artfully about the tree threw sparkles of light across the walls, as did the small ornamental balls that hung daintily from the tips of the evergreen’s needles.

    The scent of gingerbread, apple pie, and other of Adam’s specialties wafted from the kitchen; one who had the fortune to be in the house would find oneself sorely tempted to plow right into the savory cooking, despite its only being half-cooked. But tonight was different; there were no guests. Tonight was a private exhibition of Adam’s cooking prowess, his ability to astonish his partner of seven years once more. He was nervous of course, worried that something would go wrong even though it never did, anxious that he would forget something which had never happened. But then, he had reason to. The ring in his pocket weighed heavily on his mind and heart, burning a hole in his pocket, setting his mind aflame and tying his tongue into Celtic knots not even a master could untangle. No, the only person who could soothe the inferno of his body and soul, undo the loops of his tongue was in the car, on the way home from work.

    The table was set for only two, no outsiders would be privy to the asking of the sacred bond the two would hopefully share, the memory forever theirs and theirs alone…

    The sound of tyres in the driveway startled Adam from his thoughts, as he carefully put down his cooking spoon and tried not to run headlong to the door, to throw himself at his lover and just present the ring right then and there. He heard the footsteps on the pavement, crunching on the fresh snow, matched his own to them, a genuine smile spreading across his face, lighting his eyes to turquoise. He threw open the door, ready to announce that dinner was ready, that he had a surprise for after they had finished dessert, that it was to be the last gift, the one that was too monumental to be entrusted to the tree.

    The words died on his lips as the uniformed officer outside extended his hand.

    “I’m officer Repaer. I’m so sorry for your loss…”