“On the first of December, there was a heavy snowfall. When Ned looked out of his window the next morning, the river glowed like a snake made out of light as it wound among the snow-covered mountains. He ate breakfast hastily, too preoccupied to read the story on the cereal box. Mrs. Scallop was broody this morning and left him alone, her glance passing over him as it passed over the kitchen chairs. On the porch, he paused to take deep breaths of air which tasted, he imagined, like water from th...e center of the ocean, then he waded into the snow, passing the Packard, its windows white and hidden, the crabapple tree with its weighted branches, down the long hill trying to guess if he was anywhere near the buried driveway. By the time he reached Mr. Scully’s house, his galoshes were topped with snow and his feet were wet. Mr. Scully’s shades were drawn; the house had a pinched look as though it felt the cold. Ned went around to the back until he could see the shed. There were boot tracks in the snow leading to it and returning to the back door.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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