Mackenzie had a small backyard with a low fence attached to the condo. The
building itself was near a small national forest that separated the ski resort and the
golf course. Jim had followed her outside of Truckee and up the hill. Her dog, a pug
named Bruno, wet himself at the sight of another dog. The dogs seemed to get along,
so Jim and Mackenzie settled in on the patio furniture. Mackenzie activated the space
heater on the porch and started a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Jim watched the dogs
rumble around the yard. Mackenzie came through the sliding glass door and handed
him a cup.
"Ugh," Jim said. "You got to warn me if you're going to do that."
Mackenzie laughed. "Sorry, thought you could use a little Irish coffee." She sat
down next to him on the plastic patio chairs.
"Your boyfriend set you up with the furniture and stuff?" Jim asked. He winced
sipping his coffee.
"I slept with him, but it wasn't anything serious." She smiled at him and began
waving her hand around like she was royalty. She imitated Robin Leach. "This humble
abode and all its furnishings were courtesy of credit cards."
"Oh," Jim said. He rattled his fingers against the tin coffee cup. Jim reached down
on the patio and picked up a pine cone. He threw it near the dogs, and they both ran
off to follow it.
"Better than kids, aren't they?" Mackenzie said.
"No diapers," Jim said.
"Amen," Mackenzie said and clanked her coffee cup against Jim's. She watched the
dogs for a moment and, without looking at him, said "So, what made you go out to
Florida in the first place? I don't remember that part."
"Girl," Jim said, brushing his fingers on the cold surface of the patio. He felt a pine
needle and twisted it between his ring finger and thumb.
"Oh, I have to hear about this. Wait a second," she said, getting up.
"It isn't that interesting," he said, leaning his head back so he was looking at her
up-side down.
"Then make something up," she said. She began to sort through shelf on the wall,
"Music?"
"Sure," Jim said. Mackenzie put on a CD, some Starbucks compilation thing, and
came back.
"Give me some details," she said.
"There isn't much to tell."
"Come on," Mackenzie made big eyes at him like a little girl asking to stay up past
her bedtime.
Jim took a drink. "We started dating senior year of high school. She wanted to go
to school in Florida, near her dad's family. I went out there with her. It didn't work
out."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Bullshit."
Jim picked up a pine needle from the plastic table and twirled the new piece. Why
not? he thought.
"She wanted to get married and I didn't." His felt his heart beating in his chest.
Too much coffee.
"Believe me, marriage is overrated," Mackenzie said.
"Thanks."
"You know, Jimmy, I think there is more to this hurricane story than you are telling
me."
Jim stared at both dogs like they were a campfire. Suddenly, thedogs looked in
the same direction. Jim followed where they were looking to the tree line on the left
side of the fairway. A cinnamon black bear moved sluggishly across the grass. Behind
it bounded a jet black cub picking up its feet up every time it touched the patches of
snow. The cinnamon mother walked gingerly like a small child that had just woken up
and come down stairs in footie pajamas. Jim reached his arm behind him and opened
the sliding glass door slowly. Both dogs were staring in the direction of the bears,
huff-barking. He called Angel and she just looked at him and back to the bear.
"Bruno, get in the house," Mackenzie said firmly. Bruno trotted in and Angel
followed, gruffing. Mackenzie shut the door behind the dogs. She moved her chair
closer to Jim and put her hand on his knee. "That's pretty cute," she said.
The cub was like a pilot fish around its mother, circling and circling. When the bears
reached the edge of the tree line, the mother had had enough. She batted the cub,
sending it sprawling.
"That's something," Jim laughed.
"Sure is," Mackenzie said. Jim looked her over. Her cheeks were flushed in the
cold. His temples pulsed.
When the bear was gone, they let the dogs out again. They had a couple more
drinks inside the condo, and Mackenzie told him about her job; the snotty rich folks
from the city, the college ski bums, how she had gained five pounds the first month
eating the North Star chili dogs. That night they ordered pizza and watched some
movies on cable. Mackenzie sat on the sofa with her head against Jim's shoulder and
talked during the movie. It had been so long since he had dated someone new that
he forgot how to make a move. She fell asleep during the last movie and the only
thing he could think of was to carry her to bed. He slept on the couch.
Jim awoke the next morning to Mackenzie poking him in the ribs. "Get up," she
said. "I have an idea." The sun was up outside, but still behind the mountains.
Mackenzie let both dogs out and started coffee. She sat Indian style in front of him in
flannel pajamas. Jim hadn't heard her get up.
"Are you gonna say something?" she said.
"I don't see a light bulb over your head."
"I'm serious. You ever heard people talk about how you can ski and surf in
California in one day?"
"My dad might have mentioned it once or twice," Jim said, sitting up on the couch.
"I don't surf."
"Neither do I." Mackenzie jumped up. Jim didn't want that to be the end of the
discussion; he shook his head and tried to clear the hangover that was trying to start.
"Mac, I think I need to head home."
"No, you need to go with me," she said, pouring coffee. She stopped and looked
up at him.
"Come on, let's just ski and decide later. I'll put you on one of my guest passes."
She said it like a parent trying to get a child to cooperate. "There's a great donut
shop in the village. You can get some ideas. Besides, I want to hear more about
Florida." She handed him a mug and went to her bedroom to get dressed. Jim went
to follow her but had to remind himself that they hadn't slept together the night
before. What the hell, Jim thought. It sounded better than staring at the walls of his
cabin.
They put the dogs in separate rooms and left for the resort in Jim's jeep. He
usually brought clothes with him on his little trips and he always had his boots and
poles in the back of the vehicle. Mackenzie chatted and pointed out the houses of
people she knew while they drove. Jim listened and looked at her white sweater that
was a little too tight.
When they were getting their gear together in the parking lot, Mackenzie was still
chatting.
"Jim," she said.
"Yeah?"
"People have told me I'm too nosy. If I'm getting on your nerves, just let me
know. You know what it is like to be a west coast type. They say hurricane on TV and
it doesn't mean anything. I'm just curious. It's kind of an interest of mine. My ex said
that I was a weather channel junkie."
Jim wasn't awake enough to tell the truth. "Nothing wrong with being curious.
Let's just get on the slope." Without another word he started walking toward the
front gate of the resort.
They arrived almost an hour before the resort opened. Mackenzie waved at most
of the early employees and she had a story to tell about almost every one of them.
Sam was gay but hadn't told his dad yet. Sheila wanted vaginal rejuvenation. Her
boss, Brian, left his wife for a 19-year-old. That 19-year-old, Bridget, was making
$19.50 and hour as a cashier at the deli.
The assembly of shops and restaurants at the village looked like Dr. Seuss' Whos had
gone corporate. Mackenzie led him to the right through the rental hut, a
double-doored building with metal stairs leading down to it. "We'll go up with the ski
patrol," Mackenzie said after Jim had gotten his skis.
They headed up in the gondola and onto the empty slopes. The morning was crisp,
although it was nearly 35 degrees when they took the lift up. They came to the end
of the high-speed lift to a simple blue square. Mackenzie tilted her head toward the
bottom of the hill and pushed down. "Come on," she said. "This run's a category one,
tops." Jim pushed his goggles firmly on his head and followed behind her.
The snow was spring garbage, scraping with the sound of a credit card across an
icy windshield in the shade and slushing in the few patches of sun. Jim watched
Mackenzie ahead of him, moving from side to side down the hill. She had put on black
ski bibs, and her legs looked like a tight pendulum rocking back and forth down the
hill. Her hair, lifted up by an ear wrap, flittered like a flag in the wind.
Sweat beaded on her nose when they reached the end of the run. "Damn that
was icy," she said. "Ready for something more interesting? Category three maybe?"
Jim only nodded and sat closer to her on the lift. She yelled a "hello" at the ski
patrol doing the check-throughs underneath them and the driver of a grading machine
who was lighting a cigarette.
They got off the first lift and took another one to a higher elevation. When they
reached the top of the mountain, Jim stopped to adjust his poles and looked out to
the east. The sun was still coming up over the lake, drawing a line of orange and
yellow across the center of the water. The mountains surrounding the lake were
beginning to lose a little of the snow pack, like a circle of old men with receding hair
lines.
"You coming or what?" Mackenzie said.
"Just looking. I haven't skied here since I was a kid. Hold your horses."
"Just keep the saddle in the barn for now, cowboy," she said. Jim grinned and got
his poles together and looked down the run, which faced to the west. In the distance
were Donner Lake and the Pass. Tiny compared to Tahoe, it was still mostly in the
shadow of the mountains. Jim thought about all of the people who were stuck there
so long ago: running out of food, eating mules and eventually each other. Those folks
had it bad.
A snowball hit him in the face. Jim shook the powder off.
"Wake up," Mackenzie said. "Don't get up this early much?"
"Not since I've been back here," Jim said, and started down the hill, dusting her
with snow as he went by. She laughed and followed him down the hill.
They skied until mid-morning when the snow started getting really rough. Jim fell a
few times trying to keep up with Mackenzie, but had no "yard sales." He skied every
day they first week he came out to California, but had only hit the slopes a handful of
times since. They were quiet going down the gondola to the ski village. Mackenzie
had her head back with her eyes closed. Jim would be sore in the morning but didn't
care.
Getting back to her condo they let the dogs out and made some sandwiches. They
decided to take Jim's jeep down to the valley because the weather might be nice
enough to take the top off. The dogs were in the backseat and Mackenzie had
changed out of her ski stuff to a pair of jeans and baggy t-shirt.
Jim pulled the car off the interstate and got onto highway 20 that went all the way
to Fort Bragg on the coast.
"Why don't we go through Sac and save some time?" Mackenzie said.
"What's wrong with the scenic route?"
"Nothing. If that's what you want to do." She folded her arms.
"Come on," Jim said. "We've got time."
Mackenzie looked out the window at the caramel-colored snow piled up on the side
of the road. They didn't talk much after they got off the interstate. Jim put in a
Beatles CD and the dogs slept in the back.
Mackenzie finally said, "Are you ever going to tell me what the hurricane was like?
I'm mean, stuff you don't tell other people."
Jim looked at the speedometer. "I told you everything already."
She looked hurt.
"It's not that I don't have stuff to tell. It's like," he said, taking in a breath. "I
don't know. Not fun."
She looked at him and suddenly appeared much older. The light that came through
the pine trees flashed on and off her face. Her head was tilted forward and she was
almost looking at him through her eyebrows.
Jim changed the track on the CD. "Open the glove box and get me out one of the
cloves."
"These things are bad for you, honey," Mackenzie said. Some of the humor was
coming back to her now, but it was reined in, like the inner bitch was hovering just
below the surface waiting to come out of the water and pull him below.
"They kept me awake on the trip out from Pensacola. Wouldn't have made it
through Nebraska." He hadn't even told his parents this stuff. "I'll tell you one more
thing and that's it.
Give me a second." His lit the clove and rolled down the window. One of the dogs
grunted in the back of the jeep. The mountain air smelled dusty from months of
plowed snow. They were coming into a densely wooded, windy part of the road. Jim
inhaled as he slowed down.
He tried to think of what to say. Something that put the whole experience into
perspective. He could tell her about the fish that had floated up with the salty
sewage water and lodged into his cake oven. There had been a hole in the roof and
maggots in the refrigerator. All those things that he had tried to clean out of his
memory before he told people about his life.
"I'm waiting," Mackenzie said. She was trying to joke around now. "Come on, it
can't be that bad."
Jim just made something up. Something that he'd heard while he was picking
through the remains of his bakery. He was shooing away seagulls from the dumpster
when his neighbor from the gas station across the street came over. His name was
Roberto, a balding Cuban who sold Jim's muffins for more than twice what they were
worth. "There was this guy in my apartment complex that had crabs on the kitchen
counter. Live crabs. They boiled them the first night they got back and dipped them in
grape jelly that hadn't spoiled in the fridge." Jim didn't believe the story then, but he
told it passionately now. His voice inflected in the right places, he waived his free
hand in the air to emphasize points, and swirled smoke all throughout the cab of the
jeep.
Mackenzie seemed satisfied. "Was that so hard?" She ran her hand across his
shoulders and along his arm.
Jim flicked his cigarette out the window. He knew that they were going to get to
the ocean and make love somewhere on the coast. He thought about how excited
he'd be to take her clothes off for the first time, and then getting naked in front of her.
Fort Bragg would be cold with an icy mist coming off the ocean. There would be
abalone in the sea-side restaurants and campgrounds where he and Mackenzie and
the dogs could spend the night. Maybe they would find a nice hotel. And, out there in
the Pacific, sharks and crab and fish and all the other creatures would be hunting for
their next meal.
building itself was near a small national forest that separated the ski resort and the
golf course. Jim had followed her outside of Truckee and up the hill. Her dog, a pug
named Bruno, wet himself at the sight of another dog. The dogs seemed to get along,
so Jim and Mackenzie settled in on the patio furniture. Mackenzie activated the space
heater on the porch and started a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Jim watched the dogs
rumble around the yard. Mackenzie came through the sliding glass door and handed
him a cup.
"Ugh," Jim said. "You got to warn me if you're going to do that."
Mackenzie laughed. "Sorry, thought you could use a little Irish coffee." She sat
down next to him on the plastic patio chairs.
"Your boyfriend set you up with the furniture and stuff?" Jim asked. He winced
sipping his coffee.
"I slept with him, but it wasn't anything serious." She smiled at him and began
waving her hand around like she was royalty. She imitated Robin Leach. "This humble
abode and all its furnishings were courtesy of credit cards."
"Oh," Jim said. He rattled his fingers against the tin coffee cup. Jim reached down
on the patio and picked up a pine cone. He threw it near the dogs, and they both ran
off to follow it.
"Better than kids, aren't they?" Mackenzie said.
"No diapers," Jim said.
"Amen," Mackenzie said and clanked her coffee cup against Jim's. She watched the
dogs for a moment and, without looking at him, said "So, what made you go out to
Florida in the first place? I don't remember that part."
"Girl," Jim said, brushing his fingers on the cold surface of the patio. He felt a pine
needle and twisted it between his ring finger and thumb.
"Oh, I have to hear about this. Wait a second," she said, getting up.
"It isn't that interesting," he said, leaning his head back so he was looking at her
up-side down.
"Then make something up," she said. She began to sort through shelf on the wall,
"Music?"
"Sure," Jim said. Mackenzie put on a CD, some Starbucks compilation thing, and
came back.
"Give me some details," she said.
"There isn't much to tell."
"Come on," Mackenzie made big eyes at him like a little girl asking to stay up past
her bedtime.
Jim took a drink. "We started dating senior year of high school. She wanted to go
to school in Florida, near her dad's family. I went out there with her. It didn't work
out."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Bullshit."
Jim picked up a pine needle from the plastic table and twirled the new piece. Why
not? he thought.
"She wanted to get married and I didn't." His felt his heart beating in his chest.
Too much coffee.
"Believe me, marriage is overrated," Mackenzie said.
"Thanks."
"You know, Jimmy, I think there is more to this hurricane story than you are telling
me."
Jim stared at both dogs like they were a campfire. Suddenly, thedogs looked in
the same direction. Jim followed where they were looking to the tree line on the left
side of the fairway. A cinnamon black bear moved sluggishly across the grass. Behind
it bounded a jet black cub picking up its feet up every time it touched the patches of
snow. The cinnamon mother walked gingerly like a small child that had just woken up
and come down stairs in footie pajamas. Jim reached his arm behind him and opened
the sliding glass door slowly. Both dogs were staring in the direction of the bears,
huff-barking. He called Angel and she just looked at him and back to the bear.
"Bruno, get in the house," Mackenzie said firmly. Bruno trotted in and Angel
followed, gruffing. Mackenzie shut the door behind the dogs. She moved her chair
closer to Jim and put her hand on his knee. "That's pretty cute," she said.
The cub was like a pilot fish around its mother, circling and circling. When the bears
reached the edge of the tree line, the mother had had enough. She batted the cub,
sending it sprawling.
"That's something," Jim laughed.
"Sure is," Mackenzie said. Jim looked her over. Her cheeks were flushed in the
cold. His temples pulsed.
When the bear was gone, they let the dogs out again. They had a couple more
drinks inside the condo, and Mackenzie told him about her job; the snotty rich folks
from the city, the college ski bums, how she had gained five pounds the first month
eating the North Star chili dogs. That night they ordered pizza and watched some
movies on cable. Mackenzie sat on the sofa with her head against Jim's shoulder and
talked during the movie. It had been so long since he had dated someone new that
he forgot how to make a move. She fell asleep during the last movie and the only
thing he could think of was to carry her to bed. He slept on the couch.
Jim awoke the next morning to Mackenzie poking him in the ribs. "Get up," she
said. "I have an idea." The sun was up outside, but still behind the mountains.
Mackenzie let both dogs out and started coffee. She sat Indian style in front of him in
flannel pajamas. Jim hadn't heard her get up.
"Are you gonna say something?" she said.
"I don't see a light bulb over your head."
"I'm serious. You ever heard people talk about how you can ski and surf in
California in one day?"
"My dad might have mentioned it once or twice," Jim said, sitting up on the couch.
"I don't surf."
"Neither do I." Mackenzie jumped up. Jim didn't want that to be the end of the
discussion; he shook his head and tried to clear the hangover that was trying to start.
"Mac, I think I need to head home."
"No, you need to go with me," she said, pouring coffee. She stopped and looked
up at him.
"Come on, let's just ski and decide later. I'll put you on one of my guest passes."
She said it like a parent trying to get a child to cooperate. "There's a great donut
shop in the village. You can get some ideas. Besides, I want to hear more about
Florida." She handed him a mug and went to her bedroom to get dressed. Jim went
to follow her but had to remind himself that they hadn't slept together the night
before. What the hell, Jim thought. It sounded better than staring at the walls of his
cabin.
They put the dogs in separate rooms and left for the resort in Jim's jeep. He
usually brought clothes with him on his little trips and he always had his boots and
poles in the back of the vehicle. Mackenzie chatted and pointed out the houses of
people she knew while they drove. Jim listened and looked at her white sweater that
was a little too tight.
When they were getting their gear together in the parking lot, Mackenzie was still
chatting.
"Jim," she said.
"Yeah?"
"People have told me I'm too nosy. If I'm getting on your nerves, just let me
know. You know what it is like to be a west coast type. They say hurricane on TV and
it doesn't mean anything. I'm just curious. It's kind of an interest of mine. My ex said
that I was a weather channel junkie."
Jim wasn't awake enough to tell the truth. "Nothing wrong with being curious.
Let's just get on the slope." Without another word he started walking toward the
front gate of the resort.
They arrived almost an hour before the resort opened. Mackenzie waved at most
of the early employees and she had a story to tell about almost every one of them.
Sam was gay but hadn't told his dad yet. Sheila wanted vaginal rejuvenation. Her
boss, Brian, left his wife for a 19-year-old. That 19-year-old, Bridget, was making
$19.50 and hour as a cashier at the deli.
The assembly of shops and restaurants at the village looked like Dr. Seuss' Whos had
gone corporate. Mackenzie led him to the right through the rental hut, a
double-doored building with metal stairs leading down to it. "We'll go up with the ski
patrol," Mackenzie said after Jim had gotten his skis.
They headed up in the gondola and onto the empty slopes. The morning was crisp,
although it was nearly 35 degrees when they took the lift up. They came to the end
of the high-speed lift to a simple blue square. Mackenzie tilted her head toward the
bottom of the hill and pushed down. "Come on," she said. "This run's a category one,
tops." Jim pushed his goggles firmly on his head and followed behind her.
The snow was spring garbage, scraping with the sound of a credit card across an
icy windshield in the shade and slushing in the few patches of sun. Jim watched
Mackenzie ahead of him, moving from side to side down the hill. She had put on black
ski bibs, and her legs looked like a tight pendulum rocking back and forth down the
hill. Her hair, lifted up by an ear wrap, flittered like a flag in the wind.
Sweat beaded on her nose when they reached the end of the run. "Damn that
was icy," she said. "Ready for something more interesting? Category three maybe?"
Jim only nodded and sat closer to her on the lift. She yelled a "hello" at the ski
patrol doing the check-throughs underneath them and the driver of a grading machine
who was lighting a cigarette.
They got off the first lift and took another one to a higher elevation. When they
reached the top of the mountain, Jim stopped to adjust his poles and looked out to
the east. The sun was still coming up over the lake, drawing a line of orange and
yellow across the center of the water. The mountains surrounding the lake were
beginning to lose a little of the snow pack, like a circle of old men with receding hair
lines.
"You coming or what?" Mackenzie said.
"Just looking. I haven't skied here since I was a kid. Hold your horses."
"Just keep the saddle in the barn for now, cowboy," she said. Jim grinned and got
his poles together and looked down the run, which faced to the west. In the distance
were Donner Lake and the Pass. Tiny compared to Tahoe, it was still mostly in the
shadow of the mountains. Jim thought about all of the people who were stuck there
so long ago: running out of food, eating mules and eventually each other. Those folks
had it bad.
A snowball hit him in the face. Jim shook the powder off.
"Wake up," Mackenzie said. "Don't get up this early much?"
"Not since I've been back here," Jim said, and started down the hill, dusting her
with snow as he went by. She laughed and followed him down the hill.
They skied until mid-morning when the snow started getting really rough. Jim fell a
few times trying to keep up with Mackenzie, but had no "yard sales." He skied every
day they first week he came out to California, but had only hit the slopes a handful of
times since. They were quiet going down the gondola to the ski village. Mackenzie
had her head back with her eyes closed. Jim would be sore in the morning but didn't
care.
Getting back to her condo they let the dogs out and made some sandwiches. They
decided to take Jim's jeep down to the valley because the weather might be nice
enough to take the top off. The dogs were in the backseat and Mackenzie had
changed out of her ski stuff to a pair of jeans and baggy t-shirt.
Jim pulled the car off the interstate and got onto highway 20 that went all the way
to Fort Bragg on the coast.
"Why don't we go through Sac and save some time?" Mackenzie said.
"What's wrong with the scenic route?"
"Nothing. If that's what you want to do." She folded her arms.
"Come on," Jim said. "We've got time."
Mackenzie looked out the window at the caramel-colored snow piled up on the side
of the road. They didn't talk much after they got off the interstate. Jim put in a
Beatles CD and the dogs slept in the back.
Mackenzie finally said, "Are you ever going to tell me what the hurricane was like?
I'm mean, stuff you don't tell other people."
Jim looked at the speedometer. "I told you everything already."
She looked hurt.
"It's not that I don't have stuff to tell. It's like," he said, taking in a breath. "I
don't know. Not fun."
She looked at him and suddenly appeared much older. The light that came through
the pine trees flashed on and off her face. Her head was tilted forward and she was
almost looking at him through her eyebrows.
Jim changed the track on the CD. "Open the glove box and get me out one of the
cloves."
"These things are bad for you, honey," Mackenzie said. Some of the humor was
coming back to her now, but it was reined in, like the inner bitch was hovering just
below the surface waiting to come out of the water and pull him below.
"They kept me awake on the trip out from Pensacola. Wouldn't have made it
through Nebraska." He hadn't even told his parents this stuff. "I'll tell you one more
thing and that's it.
Give me a second." His lit the clove and rolled down the window. One of the dogs
grunted in the back of the jeep. The mountain air smelled dusty from months of
plowed snow. They were coming into a densely wooded, windy part of the road. Jim
inhaled as he slowed down.
He tried to think of what to say. Something that put the whole experience into
perspective. He could tell her about the fish that had floated up with the salty
sewage water and lodged into his cake oven. There had been a hole in the roof and
maggots in the refrigerator. All those things that he had tried to clean out of his
memory before he told people about his life.
"I'm waiting," Mackenzie said. She was trying to joke around now. "Come on, it
can't be that bad."
Jim just made something up. Something that he'd heard while he was picking
through the remains of his bakery. He was shooing away seagulls from the dumpster
when his neighbor from the gas station across the street came over. His name was
Roberto, a balding Cuban who sold Jim's muffins for more than twice what they were
worth. "There was this guy in my apartment complex that had crabs on the kitchen
counter. Live crabs. They boiled them the first night they got back and dipped them in
grape jelly that hadn't spoiled in the fridge." Jim didn't believe the story then, but he
told it passionately now. His voice inflected in the right places, he waived his free
hand in the air to emphasize points, and swirled smoke all throughout the cab of the
jeep.
Mackenzie seemed satisfied. "Was that so hard?" She ran her hand across his
shoulders and along his arm.
Jim flicked his cigarette out the window. He knew that they were going to get to
the ocean and make love somewhere on the coast. He thought about how excited
he'd be to take her clothes off for the first time, and then getting naked in front of her.
Fort Bragg would be cold with an icy mist coming off the ocean. There would be
abalone in the sea-side restaurants and campgrounds where he and Mackenzie and
the dogs could spend the night. Maybe they would find a nice hotel. And, out there in
the Pacific, sharks and crab and fish and all the other creatures would be hunting for
their next meal.
r.kv.r.y. quarterly literary journal spring 2008 fiction
snowed in by david a. willis page two
snowed in by david a. willis page two