Blizzard

Traci Kenworth

The wind howled while I watched the snowstorm through the windows. Even the three panes of glass the storm windows held didn’t dampen the sound of the blizzard’s fury. Where had Maurice gone? This late at night? And without a word? Chills evaded me. He hadn’t—left? I thought we planned to work through our problems not give up. Lights blistered the driveway. The door creaked. A fist pounded. Once. Twice. Three times. Maurice stood on the porch step, frozen dollar store flowers in his hand. We kissed. The storm faded in the background. Time began.