The Snow Child

by Eowyn Ivey

If only it would snow. Maybe that white would soften the bleak lines. Perhaps it could catch some bit of light and mirror it back into her eyes.

Now he sat laughing with strangers, when he hadn’t smiled at her in years.

Mabel couldn’t remember the last time they had so deliberately gazed at each other, and the moment was like the snow, slow and drifting.