![]() That’s how Shakespeare would’ve written it, anyway. I took it as a sign that I’d somehow disturbed the balance of nature when I opened up that envelope. At some point the wind kicked up and the few flakes outside swirled together and multiplied until they became a solid wall of white that blasted my windows for what felt like hours. ![]() Julianna’s words and my own guilt over reading them had run endless circles through my mind all night, keeping me floating in that strange, fitful space between sleep and consciousness. I lie in the quiet dark of my room, relieved I don’t have to get up anytime soon. It means last night’s storm brought too much snow, too fast for the plows to have the roads cleared in time for the buses this morning. ![]() When the phone rings before six a.m., I know there’s no chance I’ll be driving out to Summit Lake. “On the Heart’s Beginning to Cloud the Mind” ![]()
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