There was a circular patch of darkness at the end of it, a fold of shadow that marked the hole he’d dug to get down inside. Now, in spite of the snow-dazzle, he thought he could see something there. Something moving. A hand. The waving hand of some desperately unhappy child, waving hand, pleading hand, drowning hand. (Save me O please save me If you can’t save me at least come play with me…Forever. And Forever. And Forever.)
