Yesterday I went up to the mountains with my friend. I had been pushing for us to take a scenic drive for about a week or so, before all the flora and fauna disappeared for the winter. Everything was going to be super and perfect; warm weather, clear skies, colorful landscape. She'd probably even want to fall into my arms because she'd be so struck by the perfect beauty of it all.
Well, most everything had died. And, it was really cold. Like, really REALLY cold. We found that great scenic spot I had picked out before. It was littered with paintball shells. We sat on a rock to eat some lunch. It started to snow. Our fingers froze...
We sat in the snow. We sat there as the snow fell on us.
On top of it all, she didn't even have shoes on, I was battling a relapse of Typhoid Fever, and she turned out to be a Red Sox fan.