January Thaw
Winter came early and hard that year in Vermont. Tirelessly it had tantrumed, since October’s end. So, as the two of them sat that January noon, at opposite corners of the sofa, those few inches between them a masonry, the heated air between them as thick as gelatin, that nigh space separating them as arbitrary, but as undeniable, as incontrovertible as the border between warring states, they did not at once note the sunlight streaming through the windowpane. “You’re going to have to live with that,” Sarah snapped. “It’s all I ever wanted. ...
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