“The trees look larger and darker than usual. The leaves are almost black, knitted so tightly together they blot out the sky. "It probably wasn't the best day for a picnic," Alex says, and just then I realize that yes, of course, we haven't eaten any of the food we brought. There's a basket at the foot of the blanket, filled with half-rotten fruit, swarmed by tiny black ants. "Why not?" I say. We are lying on our backs, staring at the web of leaves above us, thick as a wall. "Because it's snowing." Alex laughs. And again I realize he's right: It is snowing, thick flake Netlign="cents the color of ash swirling all around us. It's freezing cold, too. My breath comes in clouds, and I press against him, trying to stay warm. "Give me your arm," I say, but Alex doesn't respond. I try to move into the space between his arm and his chest but his body is rigid, unyielding. "Alex," I say. "Come on, I'm cold." "I'm cold," he parrots, from lips that barely move. They are blue, and cracked. He is s...taring at the leaves without blinking.MoreLessShow More Show Less
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