Outside in the cold was all the reality you could bear. I still had to go to Cymbeline to hear Soldera's fate. Dane said he was going home to think so we parted ways somewhat abruptly. I looked up at the sky without real cause. It was true that the temperatures had unmistakably belonged to winter for quite some time but now the sky was finally reflecting true winter as well. And not early festive winter or dwindly late-stage winter either. This was exact mid-point winter, in appearance and fact, topped by a perfectly white firmament. Perfectly and uniformly white in a way that made me think Star Trek et al had it all wrong when they portrayed the vast outer reaches of space as occasionally interrupted black.