The snow on the ground is melting and the rain is falling steadily. The mist hanging over the city blurs the lights from cars on the street and from the streetlamps that stand, immovable, and watch them pass by. You're now so far away that i can hardly see your fragile shape, melting in the rain and the midst, trudging through puddles and over patches of wet ice in the damp cold. When you were closer I saw your proud march, all righteous anger and reinforced resolve marred by these patches of ice. The streets will side with neither of us, and so you slipped, softening your steely march, but as you get further away from me, as you disappear into the growing darkness and the fog and the blur of lights, as you walk to the metro from here, as i know more and more that it will be the last time, your pace is steadied and your resolve strengthened as the sidewalk seems to bend to your will. 

You haven't slipped on in the last 50 metres and soon you will be gone, leaving me to stare into the empty mist, my eyes growing bleary.