Cold

"Can you park closer to the door? These shoes don't have much traction," Anna asked softly, feeling Will's anger at both the sudden snow onslaught, and her for dragging him from his January cocoon of vodka and Nintendo.

Will snapped the Audi into park. "This spot is fine," he spat.

Anna sighed, climbing from the car.

"Okay, Ms Attitude, see the movie alone!" A blast of wind and sharp snow hit Anna's face as Will sped away.

Tears and snow stung Anna's eyes. Heat rising in her chest, she stared at the marquee, the words blurry in the low visibility. "Jackass," she mumbled, "he saw me leave my phone charging at home."

Certain he'd eventually circle back for her, Anna wrapped her scarf against the storm and began struggling against the wind. One mile? Two? Never good with distances, Anna wasn't certain how far she was from their apartment.

Heavy snow filled her shoes. Whoosh! A speeding truck sprayed her with slush. Startled, she yelped, slipping in her light shoes and falling hard on her tailbone.

Limping, she paused by a home with Christmas lights still beaming love hopefully into the darkness. They'd had an anxious Christmas with his family in Virginia, Will shouting at his mother, Anna, embarrassed but feigning brightness, soothing everyone.

Will answered her knock. "You should've called," he growled.

"I didn't have my phone."

"That was stupid."

Closing herself behind their bedroom door, Anna called her best friend. "Come get me tomorrow. I'm ready to leave."