To Build a Snowman: An Underwhelming Homage to Jack London
The Dad parted the blinds and looked down from his second story bedroom, “It must have snowed again overnight.” He thought, frowning, “More shoveling.” He allowed the blind to drop back into place, but it didn’t drop enough. There was a sliver of sunlight still shooting into the room. His wife grumbled, rolled over and pulled the bedsheets up tighter. She was not feeling well that day. It was January first and despite having only one glass of wine at…