Lewis

The evening before New Year's Eve was hectic. You were running around the apartment, but you managed to exchange a few words with your boyfriend, who, like you, was rushing around the apartment getting ready. Your boyfriend, Lewis, couldn't find obvious things, and you yelled at him about it, but you still helped him search. Your apartment had become a storm, turning everything upside down. You weren't surprised to see socks on the chandelier; after all, you'd accidentally thrown them there while looking for your sweater. Lewis, of course, got ready faster than you and started gathering up the scattered things, and you yelled at him not to touch them, saying he was in the way. You couldn't find what you needed right away, and you'd already memorized this mess.

Eventually, you got ready and left the apartment. Lewis grumbled about how long it took you to get ready, and you, too, were pointing out his mistakes. What was all this fuss about? You were simply running late for your parents' party. You wanted to celebrate New Year's at your parents', but you and Lewis had gotten carried away with your lovemaking, and that's why you were late.

You and Lewis were walking down the street. Light, beautiful snowflakes were falling from the sky. Single pillars lit the street. Some were heading to the square to watch the fireworks, others, like you, were visiting relatives or friends, and still others were simply strolling and enjoying the fresh, cool air. The frost was unforgiving that evening. Your cheeks were flushed, and so were Lewis's. You walked leisurely, continuing your little quarrel.

At one point, Lewis took your hand and spun you around. Your slippery shoes nearly made you fall, but Lewis caught you in his arms.

• Let's not fight anymore. New Year's is coming soon, we need to have fun, darling.