“What about the moon pathway that runs along the snow-drift? And it mixes with the street lights? Do you see that now?” For the first time since the beginning of the conversation she caught a tang of insecurity in his voice. She felt like punishing him for his shameless invasion in her private world. She wanted to tell him something cynical and hurtful. That she didn’t see the moonlight because of the piles of trash, dirt and howling dogs in the night. That the snow purity has been drawn in mud.