"Am I losing you?" He asked as she stared at the
winter outside.  "I am, aren't I?"  Her eyes on the window, cold
and clear.
	"I don't know."  She said softly.  He turned away from
the distance between them, his eyes hot and itching.  Pressure
surged in his chest.  The room bulged through his wet eyes.
	The carpet began to swallow him slowly.  He loosened his
tie, shaking fingers, steaming eyes, a swelling ache crushing his
ribcage.  She silently lit a cigarette.  Outside the fresh snow, 
expressionless.