Tagged: calendargirl

It’s snowing swirly flurries in the streetlamps. Everywhere else it’s just wet. Slick and shiny and slippery wet, the snow and the rain dance together down the windowpanes. They slide to the side. They whirl to the ground, a mad aerobic fling. And the streetlights shine, they shine in the snow. The wind’s been blowing all day, a blustering and a muffled thump-thump-thump against the door. You can’t get in, wind! We’ll have no storm in here. Last days of vacation should always be spent like this: sleeping in, waking slowly. A long hot shower, a decent book. Seeing how...