She had stopped talking. She had stopped singing, humming, whistling. She felt like a wild animal, like a raccoon that had cleverly burrowed into a house for the winter. She was a silent, thoughtless thing. Nothing interested her. Out of habit or stubbornness, she didn’t change her clothes or take that long, indulgent bath. She reversed her sleeping cycle, staying up all night and sleeping all day. It snowed all the time.
