Today I saw a slow flurry out the window, it was sheer perfection. The kind of snowing you only see in films but never in real life, never so perfectly paced, in thick, fluffy chunks, spaced between each other just right. I debated drawing it to my companion's attention, then decided not to. Was I being selfish in keeping the perception to myself? Maybe. I just didn't want it to be ruined, I told myself. The thing about beauty is, at least for me, subject to change given the opinions of others. If others don't find much in something, then I feel silly for being drawn to it at all, and what was once bright dulls. You have to be really careful with who your audience is when it comes to sharing beauty. Happiness is more egalitarian. But the former is a less temperate mistress. If I so choose wrong, will the whole scene be shattered? Besides, was I really withholding anything from her by remaining silent? The picturesque reel was still playing outside, wasn't it? Would my comment even add or change anything about it? I decided to err on the safe side, and look down to gather my bags as my companion comes up behind me.

"That's really pretty." She says.

I look up in surprise. Someone told me that when someone else finds the same thing beautiful as we do, especially if it's a rare preference, we feel as if some deep heartstring's been tugged. It connects with us on a really personal level. And I had held my comment because I didn't think she'd share it, and thus ruining not only the white flakes outside but also the relationship between us somehow, cut one invisible strand among many between us. But it was said, and it didn't.

**