Winter is the only time two lovers can be together, for whatever reason.
She waits in the darkness of the first official evening of winter, the cabin flush with the warmth of the fire. An old kettle whistles behind her as she gazes past the glass of the bay window, searching the invisible horizon. She turns to tend to her noisy companion, just missing the sparkle she’s been waiting all day for. It draws ever nearer, despite her sudden obliviousness, turning into a lantern, then a figure.
“And here I thought you’d be watching for me.” Cool fingers slide around her waist, the lantern clanking to rest on the marble counters.
“But if I’d been watching, my love, then there’d be no tea and you’d be teasing me about that.”
“Tea?” The eagerness practically leaps from the new arrivals lips.
“Only the very best for my winter lover.”
In Search of a Story 