Say you managed just one word more on a sheet as paper-white as snow; a footprint, a miracle, it pointed ahead and others followed dutifully as pets stopping only to look forward and seize unfolding years perched on blue lines, wires carrying voices from eternity, never faltering for phrases, life, or song. This day would have been the day you died, snow arriving silently with a snowy dawn.
Having this conversation with the future,
