On the way home, in the snow, after I’d gotten off the train at Queensborough Plaza and was walking in the direction of A.’s and my apartment, I stopped at a home goods store that I knew was carrying Christmas decorations, and purchased one of those blinking-light stars for the top of the tree in our apartment, because A. and I, when we’d been looking through our ornaments a week or two ago, had been unable to find, in the closet where we keep such items, the one we’d used in previous years.