The cold outside is static, polar. There is no wind and the thinnest of frosts gilds the ground. The coin of a moon dangles low in a punctured, glittering sky. The sight of it arrests Rosalind on the threshold. She looks up and up. It is the biggest sky she has ever seen, dark lapis in color, so big that it feels almost possible to discern the curvature of the earth beneath it.
