Sometimes, dear friends, when warm moist air rises up over cold air, well, it dumps a shitload of snow on Eastern Canada.

He kicks at the door. Once. Twice.


Thrice. The door swings open.

“You look a little like a yeti,” she says with a warm smile, while sipping the hot(ish) coffee he made for her just before the power went out.

He takes his toque off, shakes it, and sends snow in all directions.

“Bad out there?” she asks.

“I think a tauntaun just hopped by.”

“Cool,” she takes a seat on a chair, and tucks her pj-clad legs up under her.

“I just need to catch my breath. And my pretty pretty face is frozen. Is it still there?”

“Yup. You… may need a tissue.”

“It is snowing in as quickly as I can clear it.”

“Don’t two or three of your friends own snow plows?”


“So why are you doing this by hand?”

“I… I’m a boy. I thought I was supposed to shovel.”


“Well argued.”

“Remember last night when I said, ‘Love, we have nothing to eat and we should go to the store’?” she asks.


“And you said, ‘Netflix. Cuddle. Mumble. Mumble. C’mere, you’?”

“That doooooes sound like me.”

“Well we still have no food.”

“When you say ‘no food’…”

“Open box of baking soda… old packages of sweet and sour sauce… Krazy Glue…” she says.

“I feel like I saw a recipe on Pinterest featuring just those ingredients.”

“You know what we’re like when we get hangry,” she reminded.

“Oh man…”


“Fine. I’m all bundled up. I will make the trek to the store.”

“Is it open?”

“It’s always open. And if not, I’ll break in. I’ve always thought I’d make a superior looter.”

“You genuinely think you’d make a better looter than other people?”


“Okay… I’ll text you a list of stuff we need.”

“Beauty. I’m doing it.”

He steps outside, holding the door open and looking back over his shoulder.

“If anything happens to me, please tell tales of me as a peacetime bridge builder and a wartime consiguliere.”


“And when a suitable amount of time passes, and people tell you that it is okay to find love again… IGNORE them! Get some pets and stay loyal to my memory FOREVER!”

“Why are you yelling? You’re ten feet away from me.”

“Remember me as a handsome man!!!”

“Okay! I have a great imagination!”

“I haaaaaate yooooou!” he yells, as he lets the wind whip the door closed.

She sips her coffee as she quickly texts a shopping list. She opens her book and moves to the couch. Her phone *bings* with a text.

“I don’t really hate you. I think you’re pretty nifty. Smart. Kind. Funny as hell. Fembot-errific. And your face makes me feel all squishy inside. My hands are freezing… mfekwnfejbwfuewbfjkww”

She sips her coffee again and gets lost in her book.

Nine minutes later.


“Darling, I’m completely lost. Nothing looks familiar anymore. I feel like hypothermia is dulling my senses. I briefly considered taking a lover just for body heat. It turned out to be a mailbox. Pray for Mojo.”

She fixes her ponytail, and pulls a blanket over her lap.

Fourteen minutes later.


“I forget what your face looks like. Time is funny like that. I’m changed. I’m changed to my very core. If I ever find my way back to you, I promise to be more patient. Except for when you try to get me to eat sweet potato fries. Some shit is inexcusable.”

She considers a nap.

Five minutes later.


“What were the names of the twins in the Sweet Valley High series?”

She full-on falls asleep.

Twenty minutes later, she is awakened by the wind outside. She checks the time and is just beginning to worry a little.

The door swings open, and he enters with his hands triumphantly over his head, and five grocery bags hanging from each arm.

“Hi, honey. I’m home!”

“You look frozen!”

“Could you love a man with only nine toes?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmm. Never mind then.”

“Uhm… The list I sent you had five items.”


“You have more than five items here.”

“Well this is true.”

“How come?”

“I read between the lines.

“I don’t know what—“

“This bag is everything you asked for,” he says, passing it to her.

“And the others?”

“Well… there’s this bottle of wine.”

“But I only buy that one when it is on sale!”

“I know.”

“Was it on sale?”

“I am not bound by price taggery. You knew that when you married me.”

“We’re not married…”

“Oh yeah. We should fix that at some point. I’ve always wanted a spring wedding.”

“It was very sweet of you to buy this for me.”

“Well thirty-seven hours ago, you were telling me a story and were so excited, and I interrupted with a random fact that wasn’t at all necessary, and it ruined your excitement. It has been killing my soul every minute since.”

“Awwww. Well… thanks.

“Of course. Now THIS bag is all snack treats.”

He passes it to her and she looks inside with a big smile.

“Wait. These are all of my all-time favourites.”

“I know.”

“Like, all of them.”


“Did I even tell you…?”

“At various times.”

“You even got these??”

“Mmmhmmmm. Your parents always let you have those when you had a good report card.”

“I’m impressed.”


“And the other bags?”

“Oh yeah. The other bags are all ingredients for your favourite meal and dessert. As soon as the power comes back on, I am going to make it all for you, while you sit on the couch with that face and smile and ponytail, and I look over every couple minutes, without you noticing, and thank the universe or God or whatever confluence of events that led to me finding you.”





“Sometimes you’re good at reminding me why I put up with you.”

“Mumble mumble. C’mere you,” he says as he climbs on top of her.

“You’re cooooooold.”

“Not for long! Mrrrowwwrrrrrrr.”

“You’re a goof.”

“I hope the mailbox isn’t jealous.”


photo credit: Snow Day in Glen Ellyn via photopin (license)

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