A memory of beautiful awkwardness

It's chilly, and naturally so. My muscles are getting used to the stride, my ankles are starting to protest less. Slowly, ice skating has become natural to me again; the recesses of my brain stem are starting to cryptically give clues to my muscles on how to do this.

I'm happy, probably because of endorphins. And there she is. I talk with her about some esoteric subject that we will keep between us forever. As we talk, we realize with some surprise that we are holding hands and skating together.

Then, like a scene from a Disney movie, we abruptly let go of each other in embarrassment and pride. The moment is lost, shattered like so much ice.