As things thaw

He is dead, and he didn't even see it coming.

I can imagine him sitting in a royal blue sedan. The seatbelt pulling against his left arm. His left leg on the tarmat dangling. He was wearing black rayban sunglasses, hiding eyes that had stopped.
He was halfway out of that car when his world stopped.
Readying to go back to work when his heartbeat stopped.

He was held like a flower under the snow, with a slow encumbering grip. There was no violence and no resistance. The wave of white held him still.

There was no time for remembrance. The winter had come.