“The hollowness was in his arms and the world was snowing.”

“He pulls me over the railing and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.”

“Pressed against her I can hear eternity -- hollow, lonely spaces and currents that churn ceaselessly, and the fallen snow welcomes the falling snow with a whispered "Hush".”

“It was as if his point of view had, within seconds, gone from that of an ant to that of an eagle.For the sky was hollow, and the world was round.”

“I tried to force myself to say goodnight, get up and walk away. But the words wouldn’t form. The world closed in, grew small and tight—the space within a snow globe. Cradling my arms into my chest, I leaned forward, and my mouth found his. His lips were cold, his body tensing.”

“It’s beautiful, dulceață,” he said, his tone awed. “Do you see? Beautiful.” “What is?” “The snow. The night.” His arms tightened. “You.” I eyed him warily. “Thanks?”