She knows it before she's entirely awake: he's gone.

Good. They've been getting sick of the sight of each other lately. This always happens; this or something like it. At least this time, they've managed the parting without either one of them storming out in a huff.

Kali rises to her feet in a single smooth motion. A blink and she's dressed; another, and there's nothing but white powdery snow, starting to sift over the patch of ground where they lay.

Another few decades. They'll see each other again.