Charmed

Winter wizards

Aditi's watching from behind the curtain as Shubham finishes up his show at the Vinohrady Theatre. It's a beautiful structure, dating back to the early 20th century. As usual, he has the crowd eating out of his hands.

In a simple yet interesting trick, Shubham manages to get three cups turned downwards in three moves, while the people that Aarya invited to the stage to mimic him seem unable to do the same.

He explained it to her once. It requires no special skills or gimmicks, just three cups, and some misdirection. Here is the secret: he simply places the cups differently at the beginning! Every time he does it, he starts with two cups turned upward. The participants, however, always start with only one cup turned upwards. She teased him that it wasn't quite fair.

For the final trick, Shubham walks through a metal door and the audience raises to their feet with a voracious round of whistles and clapping. After giving a curtain call, he finds her, links their hands and they go to his dressing room to change.

When they leave the theatre, they catch a cab to the Charles Bridge. Shubham pays the driver then links her arm with his and together they walk onto the bridge that spans the Vltava River.

Snow dances in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. The bridge is covered in a light dusting of white, statutes peek out under their new white caps, and footsteps crisscross each other.

The bridge looks like an unfinished painting. So much of the canvas is still perfectly white as if waiting for the artist's hand to return.

"Shubham, it's beautiful here," a puff of white leaves her mouth when she exhales.

"The River Vltava is the longest river in the Czech Republic. Rising in the southwest of the country, it first flows southeast then turns north, and eventually merges with the Elba."

"You're well versed on Prague," she smiles at him.

"It's my favorite city and especially at Christmas. The Charles Bridge spans the river connecting the Old Town with the Castle District. The earliest bridge here was a wooden structure that was destroyed by flood in 1157. The subsequent stone bridge also collapsed after flooding in 1342. In 1357 Charles IV had the bridge we're standing on now built, though itself damaged by floods over the centuries, it essentially remains the same today as when built."

"It feels so surreal to be standing on all that history." Aditi urges him to the edge to look at the river below.

"The bridge has a little dark history too. It was also a place where commerce took place, duties were collected, criminals executed and punishments meted out, including being dipped in the river in a wicker basket."

"Unbelievable," Aditi wraps her hands around his arm and lays her head against it.

Breath pales against the crisp air, she blinks thoughtfully as the cold patiently kisses her face, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavily on her eyelashes. She adores the snow, even more so when it's falling like it is tonight. Intricate patterns of ice float weightlessly downward from the pure white sky above, each flake swirling and dancing,

"The statuary is breathtaking too," Aditi looks up at the one of the St. Luthgard.

"The pamphlet says the 30 mostly baroque statues and statuaries situated on the balustrade form a unique connection of artistic styles with the underlying gothic bridge. Most sculptures were erected between 1683 and 1714. They depict various saints and patron saints venerated at that time."

"I understand why you love this city so much, it's incredible."

The snow alights on Shubham's face and Aditi threads her hands up into his hair, pulling his face down to within inches of hers. She keeps her eyes open until the very moment that his lips touch hers. When his lids flutter shut, hers do the same so that she can concentrate on the surges of lightning that his lightest touch is sending along her nerve endings.