Snowflakes were swirling down from the overcast sky, covering everything with a thick, puffy white coat. With a mug of hot Earl Grey and an old copy of “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” she settled in her father’s old armchair. She is most selfish during times like these. When the snow is falling and everything seems to be at peace. The evening was towing the sun down and the day was heading toward it’s close.
Rubbing her small hands together, she crossed her legs and wrapped herself in the red fleece blanket lying on the back on the armchair. Grabbing the mug once more, she held it to her lips, feeling the warmth spread across her face and hands. The steam was calming. She closed her eyes and left her mind drift along with the small flakes behind the thin glass window.
the globe-trotters 