Kez kicks at the crate and sends it into the empty street, kicks the one beside it, but it’s frozen to the snowy ground, a pain in her toe that brings new tears to her eyes, and at the same time an undignified skidding and slipping. She takes deep breaths as she settles her shawl on her shoulders, tries to tamp the roaring rage, but it’s no use; she kicks out again and this time goes right down, landing with a hard thump on her behind that shocks everything out of her. She’d laugh if someone was with her. What else could she do, sitting on the hard ground in the gloom, cold seeping in through her twisted skirts. And there’s that boy again, standing in the shadows by the warehouse, across the narrow street. Watching her from just beyond where the street light reaches, maybe laughing at her; certainly smiling. A smirky little smile, she’s sure of it, though it’s hard to see his face properly. His hair is somehow different, and she thinks he might be a little taller, but he hasn’t changed much, he just doesn’t.
