WHEN I CAME TO my face was covered in frost. Snowflakes were landing all around me, as if the sky was shedding night. My cheeks throbbed from being up against the cold, my lips tasted of street salt. Buildings emerged out of the bleakness. I was aware that I was in an Estonian town, but which one? The building to my left was painted barn red, it looked like a boathouse. On the right was more glass, more modernity. The lights were on in the red building; the other was dark. It seemed I was the only person anywhere. This part of town was vacant and silent.

It was as if the whole place was a movie set.

I stood up, dusted the snow from my jacket and began to walk. Somewhere closer to the center of town, I found a park with a fountain at its center. Across from the fountain sat a woman who was so pale that she too could have been made of snow and winter. There she was, waiting beneath a colorful umbrella, talking to someone. This someone, I saw as the park came into view, was Brynhild. She was there with her dog, talking to Miss Winter. But something had changed, Brynhild had slimmed down. Gone were the rolls of pastry dough.

Back was her diva form.

“Ahahaha!” I heard her cackle to Miss Winter. “But you know men,” she said. “How they are.” I wondered if they had been talking about me. So this is where she had gone. Brynhild had been right here in this town, walking her dog. There she was in her sweater. Her strawberry hair was pulled back and she wore those sunglasses, even at night. But she looked different. She had been on Ozempic, or something like it, but her ass had retained its cinnamon bun shape.

I hid myself away, stood behind a lamp post. How could it be that she had lost that weight but kept her rear? Was this some new form of booty Ozempic? Maybe that’s what they were whispering about in the park. Not me. Booty Ozempic and all of life’s sweet impossibilities.