It’s frigid. I’m out on the roof with this pretty girl I met a few weeks ago, her cheeks rosy. We’re picking and licking icicles. I kind of want to buy those neon lights that will make the ice shine so my whole roof is magical. My very own ice castle. I’ll bring her back up here and sit and laugh and hold tight to the memory. A memory that may never happen. But I want to remember it.