Kim and Heidi trudged through the snow, which was stale, yellow foam under the fresh marshmallow layer. Heidi turned back to check the light in Kim’s living room on the second floor. If Heidi hadn’t pressed for the trip, they’d be in there now, her finger filling a burn hole in the couch, hearing secrets from Kim’s old school: how she’d masturbated under her desk during social studies; how she’d seduced her resource room teacher; how she’d skimmed her mother’s marijuana, a fistful at a time, and secured it in the belly of her hippo bank. Heidi was done with hearing about Kim’s experiences. She was ready to be out in the world witnessing them.

“You’ll seduce LisaParsonsTwo, right?” Heidi asked.

“Doy,” said Kim. “I’ll seduce her so hard.”

As they reached Mass Ave., Heidi zipped her puffy jacket, frail armor against the winter night. “How far is the bus stop?”

“This is the bus stop,” Kim said. “Are you blind?”

They hunched in the shelter, where snow blew in sideways. Kim’s chunky black pixie cut collected a dusting, like powdered sugar on chocolate cake. Her breasts formed a shelf for the snow, the cotton of her sweatshirt darkening as flakes melted from her heat.

“How do we get to Beacon Hill?” Heidi asked. The name sounded like a lighthouse at the center of the city, beaming a path to safe harbor.

“Doy.” Kim brushed snow off her hair. “Seventy-six to Alewife, Alewife to Park Street, then walk or take the Green Line to Government Center.”

“Cool,” Heidi said, and then, though she’d never been, “I love Government Center.”

“Ew, why? Hey, do you think anyone will die in this storm?”

“No chance. Everyone clears their tailpipes now.”

During the last snowstorm a local couple had died in their car, late at night, waiting for their windows to defrost. Their tailpipe had become clogged with snow. They’d lost themselves talking, the newspaper thought, hadn’t noticed they were drifting off, maybe confused the feeling with love. Heidi obsessed over the woman dying first, her bowed head enticing the man into his own coma. They’d met through HistoryBuffSingles.net, and the Lexington Minuteman had excerpted their personals. It was wrong they’d died just when they’d found each other. They’d both listed the Hundred Years’ War, Rice-A-Roni, and human tenderness as interests. The couple’s death was the singularly most compelling story Heidi had encountered.