The Unforgiving Snow

roat, a ghost of a sound

snappe

unlight, filtered throu

blizzard. Not the suffocatin

st my ribs, a frantic d

, my husband, slept besi

ear-old, would be stirring, re

ies, they wer

ill face. Michael' s broken body in the snow. The

ted daughter, Jessi

ned. It was all

da

the day the blizzard warnings began. The day Jessie

t through me

out of bed, my

Jessie's voice, alread

even awake? I

d radiating impatience, stood in the foyer, surrounded

expensive cashmere

as flat, devoid of the warmt

t, the ones I haven't worn yet. And the good camera. My family

cal parents. Negle

storm brewing inside me. "At least five hundred.

vaguely. "You

rying to make sure she had everything, t

lt was a cold

endearment tasting like ash. "

eyes lit up. "So you'll give me

you need,"

ng she d