We shouldn’t have driven out onto the ice. Either it was too thin or our car was too heavy. We were sinking fast. Outside the windows the water was blacker than the night we’d just left. Would we be able to find the hole in the surface if we swam now? Could we hold our breath long enough given the temperature? We asked the questions quickly but the answers didn’t matter. One thimble of chance that we could separate while trying to surface, and perish outside of one another’s view--or, worse, for only one of us to survive--was one thimble of chance too heavy.

We began disrobing simultaneously and then I helped her off with her boots. We climbed into the back seat, and I wasted no time taking control. (It was one of the things she liked best about me.)

As the wet overtook us, we locked our lips together and breathed each other’s air. I kept my eyes open, forbidding blackness to be my final view. And my love’s shivering was so intense, it looked like I was kissing twins.