Soon after my beloved and I went to sleep last night, there was a loud sound coming from the street: whoop! After a brief pause, it continued: whoop-whoop! The noise was pretty frightening late at night. At first I thought that a building was coming down, but then I remembered the sound from the last winter. It was the snow sliding down from a roof and falling to the pavement not far from my beloved’s apartment building. I was dying to know which roof it was, but I did not want to make a fuss so soon after we had signed off. I could hardly wait for the morning, though. My beloved was still asleep when I got out of bed as stealthily as I could, closed the bedroom door ever so gently, went to another room, and pulled up the shutters on a window as gingerly as I could. The roof on one of the buildings across the street was nearly bare, and there was a huge pile of snow on the pavement underneath. The mystery resolved, I snuck back into bed. My beloved woke up half an hour later, but I could hardly wait to tell her about the falling snow. She, too, had heard the noise last night, and she had figured out that it was the falling snow, as well, but she could not care less exactly where it was that it fell. We do differ a lot in some things, it goes without saying.