Syni left again. We argued; I became angry; I broke things: a potted plant, a glass, her papers now strewn across the floor. Everything was a blur of fury. No topic survived my dream but years of anger were thrown back and forth. After yelling, she braided her hair and stared at me while I sat on the bed.

Closing the door quietly she left the house and walked in the garden, looking at dead and dormant winter plants. I watched her through the window and she never once looked at me even when our faces were just this close to each other. I pulled at her green velvet cloak which I wrapped around myself as I became cold and she packed her things in silence.

As people do when in a hurry, she left many things behind. I left the room, still carrying her cloak, and waited for her to leave. She suddenly looked to me like she's always looked: lithe and furious, capable of beauty if she didn't hate so many things.

Then she was gone and it grew colder and colder. She hasn't been here for a long time.