fresh air \ hers fair

As the snow continued to fall, we settled in, consigned to our fate. Only half of the window was above now; we stared out and watched the white crystals waft like chloroform over the white ground under the white sky. The textures and edges in this old house were enough to keep us alive until the white dissolved.

For the first three hours, we stared into the fire and talked about how we wished life was in black and white, how much more nostalgic everything would be before it was even memory. I put my hand on my forehead; you put on your striped hat and smile.

Then we slept. I dreamed of white sticking to my flesh and picking me clean and black; you dreamed of grayscale trees in grayscale fields of tall grayscale grass.

We awoke and pressed against the window. Everything was the same white now. There was no telling when we would able to leave.

We stared at each other, delighted at our great fortune.