Snow continued through the night.
By morning the city had been transformed in the quiet, understated way that only New York could manage, every rooftop carrying a clean white layer before the traffic and footsteps began reclaiming it. Lena stood by the bedroom window for a moment before getting ready for work, watching the first people below move carefully across the sidewalks, bundled in scarves and heavy coats, each carrying the invisible weight of their own lives.
She had always loved watching strangers.
Not because she imagined stories for them.
Because she liked being reminded that everyone was in the middle of something.
She understood that feeling more now than she ever had before.
Behind her, Damien was tying his tie.
"You've been standing there for five minutes," he said.
