Winter Blues

“I wish we could go swimming.” Anna rested her chin on the windowsill. Her breath frosted on the window pane.

“Don't mess up the blinds,” her mother answered.

Anna let the blinds fall closed and plopped herself back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling fan. “I just wish.”

Her mother interrupted her before she could continue, “It's 13 degrees outside...Maybe after Christmas we can go on vacation...your father is really busy this time of year.”

Anna picked up a piece of paper and wadded it up before throwing it into the ceiling fan.

THWACK!

“Anna!” Her mother grabbed the ringing phone. “Hello,” she said in a harsh voice, annoyed with her daughter's cabin fever. She went pale as she listened. “No...when...how...”

The tone of his wife's voice caught his attention, and he looked up from his evening paper. “Who is it?” His wife ignored him still talking on the phone. He sighed to himself irritated, but he didn't go back to reading the paper, still listening to half the conversation. She hung up the the phone and held onto it for a minute before letting go. “Who was it?” he asked again.

“Deana Thompson.” He looked at her, waiting for the rest. “She called to tell us Diggory's daughter was in a car crash last night.”

“Diggory, your cousin?” He interrupted. “Is she alright?”

“She's dead...the funeral is Thursday. Neither said anything; she had tears in her eyes.

- - - - -

Jack took his wife's hand and they walked together in silence out of the church, the ringing bells haunting the morning air. They got into the car, and he paused. “I got Al to approve two weeks off work for me, thought we would take the kids out of school and all go to Florida.”


word count = 300