I can scent Una from here. She smells drowsy and soft like she’s fresh from the oven. Her essence wafts through the cabin walls, through the gaps in the door and window frames. When’s the last time we had the maintenance crew up here to check the insulation? We’re not so flush with cash that we can afford to heat the whole damn camp. And she must get cold when the wind blows down from the hills. She needs to be in our bed. Reaching for us when she wakes up, hungry and demanding like she was for that too brief moment last night.
