Chad and Iris were sitting on the tracks of the abandoned railroad. The rails, imbued with warmth, told the stories of the midday sun. A sun that Chad now was struggling to see, as it was hidden behind the stone mountains, with no trees nor plants, drawn on an indigo sky prematurely filled with pale, shy stars. She stared at him, trying to unravel its mystery. A lock of hair covering her lips, red as cherries resting on the snow. '' Give me a smile. It's your anniversary’ '' she said. He kept looking in the opposite direction, his eyes firmly planted on the wheat fields, endless golden blankets that in summer transformed the barren grasslands of Missouri in a Van-Gogh painting. He turned towards her, touching her face. '' A year '' - he said - '' A year. How many things can happen in one single year? It 'a trivial question, I know. But think about it for a moment, Iris. One year. 365 days. A time segment,