The wipers barely keep up with the snowfall as our van inches up, then down, another steep mountain road. No one expects heavy snow in October.
Ben is tired from hours of driving but won’t say so. There are eight people in the van, our college friends on a weekend reunion. I haven’t seen any of them, even Ben, for years.
The inn is a blessing. A fire roars in the lobby’s stone hearth. Ben sits next to me as we relax with drinks. His eyes sparkle as he talks. A small scar is etched above his lip.
“There’s a problem with your room,” the clerk tells me.
They are overbooked due to the storm. They can’t turn people away.
“You can share mine,” Ben says.
In the big feather bed we read aloud stories from the Times. We fall asleep with our legs entwined.
The snow piles up outside.
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