The snow started at dawn and did not stop. By noon the parking lot at the QuickStop was already half-full, the snow compressed into a surface that was neither ice nor ground but something in between,
The Chevy pulled in at two. It was covered in mud from the bumper to the roof, the kind of mud that only exists on roads that haven't been plowed in three weeks and don't intend to be. The driver got out slowly, the way people do when they're not in a hurry because they've already run out of things to hurry toward. He was middle-aged. Maybe early forties. Maybe late. The face was the wrong...
0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews