⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⭒❊✿❊⭒∘∙⊱⋅•
A few minutes later, the conversation quieted down into a stillness typical of when you've run out of questions but still haven't figured everything out. Outside, the soft snow we'd admired before had turned wild-thick flakes swirling viciously against the window, the streetlamp across the street a mere hazy glow in the storm. The wind howled around the corners of the little house, rattling the loose pane in the living room window like it was trying to find a way inside.
Rachel got up to clear the empty water glasses and paused at the curtain, pulling it back just enough to peek outside. "Lord have mercy," she muttered, letting the curtain fall again. "That's become a full-blown snowstorm. What a bummer you two have to head back out in this mess." She turned to us, worry creasing her brow. "You've got a car waiting, right? Something with four-wheel drive at least?"
