She came to the one of the benches sporadically placed in the area, wiping the snow from the seat before she settled down onto it, pulling the letter out. This had been her preferred spot for reading them, as well as her preferred spot in general. It was secluded, nestled in between some snow laden bushes, and separate from the rest of garden. If one could call it such. There were looming trees above her, dead with winter's frost, and there was a poorly maintained path weaving around it, the flagstone steps broken. But there were no windows looking down to it, and it had been the place where she and Tom had practiced their magic together.