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Deadlines at the end of the year suck. Everyone is scrambling to make things happen during some of the most depressing weather possible. Good luck to everyone on the boat with me.

I am dreaming of spring and summer. I am ready for the turn of the seasons and it isn’t even officially winter yet. This is going to be a long one.

L. E. White

Fresh Powder

She looked down at her fingers and flexed them, digging her nails into the snow. It was cold but still soft and loose, letting her make tiny furrows like she had when she worked in her flower bed.

But all of her flowers had withered and died a long time ago.

She stretched her fingers forward again, repeating the process to try to distract her mind from the throbbing pain in her leg.

“One more run,” he had said. “We have plenty of time.”

She had been right behind him, racing to the fire, and the cocoa, and the blankets. He had looked back at her, laughing loud enough that she could hear him despite the rush of wind in her ears.

She had watched him hit the tree.

She had tried to twist and come to a sudden stop, and she had failed. All that did was let her hit something in the snow with her leg turned sideways.

The sudden, white hot flash of pain had left her dazed. When she had tried to stand, another jolt had knocked her out.

She grinned and chuckled at the thought that she had been knocked out cold.

She began to giggle and then to laugh. The laughter built up until she was forced to onto her side, arms wrapped around her stomach. She laughed so hard that she forgot about the pain in her leg as tears froze to her cheeks.

She stopped shaking, but couldn’t stop laughing, and as the numbness made her sleepy, she wondered if she would still be smiling when they found her.

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