We sat in the snow bank overlooking the Chamonix Valley. Some of the others were throwing snowballs at each other and enjoying the sunshine. It was a perfect Alpine day. The mountains unfolded in front of us, and the sunlight glinted from lodges and cable cars deep in the valley.
"Do you think..." I started to ask. I stopped myself. She looked at me through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. Her hair was poking out of her black and blue stripy beanie hat and blowing in the breeze. I couldn't see her eyes; they were hidden behind a tiny reflection of me, twenty years old, fresh-faced, convex, and looking lost in a snow bank.
"It doesn't matter," I said. She smiled gently and went back to drawing in the snow with a gloved finger.
"I'll take a photo of this," she said excitedly, "and post it to Rob back home." I smiled weakly as she fished a disposable camera out of a waterproof pocket.
Andy bounded over and shook the snow from his jacket.
"Alright?" he said. He rested a hand on my shoulder and I turned to look at him, shielding my eyes from the sun.
"I think so," I replied. Andy smiled.
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