““Ever play the cold game?” Phil asked when we got inside the car. We didn’t speak of the visit, didn’t talk about how my mother seemed or how his brother was doing; we could’ve been pulling out of any parking lot anywhere. We granted each other that small gift. “I haven’t,” I said. “Never heard of it.” All four windows opened simultaneously and a blast of cold air shot through; snow was drifting inside the car, bits of ice landed on my hair. “Up! Up! Up!” I said. “Close up the windo...ws!” He grinned. “This is it,” he shouted, “this is the game!” “It’s freezing!” I yelled. “Please!’” We must’ve been driving fifty or sixty miles an hour. I pleaded with him to stop, but I was laughing too, swept up by all the noise and the cold, the snow rushing inside. I was gleeful and breathless. My mind brushed free of the last hour.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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