It was like he caught himself at the last moment, saving himself from falling hard to the black ice just an inch below the powder of the evening snow. The catch wrenching his back and limiting his activities until at least early Spring. He might still have had twinges of of it now and then. The fall would have been kinder. He would have known even as he saved himself from the fall that it wasn't the wiser choice.

But it wasn't that catch. It wasn't that evening snow that witnessed his failed intuition. His last minute save turned failure.

It was when she asked him something about the meaning of the evening. Maybe that evening of the snow or maybe some other. He had been caught unawares, mumbling for a moment to cover his deliberation before saying what a wonderful time they had.