"I guess the quiet woke me. It's odd, don't you think, how quiet it is?"
"The snow always makes it quiet."
The Return of Rafe MacKade
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By Stulli - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3834213
Hush. It's snowing outside.
At least, doesn't it feel like that when snowflakes make their grand entrance, pirouetting from the sky like tiny, twirling ballerinas?
And we're pressed up against windows, eyes wide open. Or outside, all giddy smiles with tongues eagerly outstretched.
Snowflakes look good. They even taste good. But they sound like … nothing.
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On impulse, she bundled herself in her boots and coat and stepped out onto the porch.
Though Gabe had shoveled it off twice during the day, the snow came almost to her knees. Her boots sank in
and disappeared. She had the sensation of being swallowed up by a soft, benign cloud.
She wrapped her arms around her chest and breathed in the thin, cold air.
and disappeared. She had the sensation of being swallowed up by a soft, benign cloud.
She wrapped her arms around her chest and breathed in the thin, cold air.
There were no stars. There was no moon. The porch light tossed its glow only a few feet.
All she could see was white.
All she could hear was silence.
All she could see was white.
All she could hear was silence.
Gabriel's Angel