Cynthia Donahue watched snow flakes flit like jewels against the street's brilliance.Cynthia Donahue watched snow flakes flit like jewels against the street's brilliance. Low hanging clouds cupped the light like a hand, pressing it firmly down against the flawless snow winking irridescently across the sidewalk and lawn. The low irregular masses of azaleas bulked against the whiteness, crowned with grotesque wigs of fresh snow, their shadows ink dark and dense. Cynthia could feel the bitter cold radiating from the window to her skin but the warmth of the bedroom enfolded her comfortingly. Indeed, that warmth seemed even more sensually caressing in contrast to the still, icy coldness beyond the glass. She sighed in deep contentment. Liam was a little late, but not surprisingly so with the snow falling so heavily all day. The plows overworked trying to cope with it, but no one seemed to mind. The breathless calm of the snowfall, without the scathing winds which might have made it unpleasant, was almost like a pause to draw breath before the real bad weather enveloped them. The piling snow might slow traffic and inhibit pedestrians, but it soothed the spirit rather than abusing it. |