They were standing outside Oslo Central Station, completely wrapped up in each other. You could tell they were in love. The way she held his face, the way he leaned into her. They were in their own world, oblivious to the cold and to everyone around them. She held his face close to hers. He kept his hands in his pockets. That detail didn’t register until I got home and looked at the photos on my screen. She was holding on to him, and he just stood there, hands buried in his coat.

Norwegians aren’t known for public displays of affection. Especially not in February, when everyone is bundled up in layers and moving quickly to get out of the cold. These two hadn’t read that memo. They stayed like that, still, while the city moved around them. A woman on the phone behind them. People heading up the stairs. The tram rounding the corner.

The two photos tell different stories. In the first photo you see his face after the kiss. Despite everything about the scene saying tenderness, there’s something melancholic in his expression. A quiet weight. In the second image, that’s gone. All you see is two people leaning into each other on a cold night. Same couple, same moment. Two different images. Black and white strips away distraction. What’s left is the gesture, the expression, the space between people.

Everyone else was on their way somewhere. These two had already arrived.