It was freezing cold outside, no pigeons in sight. But Sara insisted on an appointment. They had to meet by the bench in the park. When she said this, she meant the bench where they usually sat and enjoyed the sun in summer, talking about nothing and everything. Michael never complained, and he didn't complain about the thick snow, or the fact that the cold wind blew so hard that he hardly could see anything in the background, and the long journey back from London still made him a bit feeble and dizzy. Sara said they had to meet. They had to meet by the bench at exactly seven P. M. She's always punctual. When Michael arrived, Sara had already been there, like a ghost.

"Sara?" Michael said as strong winds started and blew away the snow, exposing the cement beneath.

With courtesy, she looked up at Michael and smiled. "Hi!"

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