It was a bitter winter.
Winter nights were icy, snow compressed the branches outside the window, a bright moon floated above the treetops, half shyly veiling its face. The wind came in gusts, blowing away the thin clouds, making the moon intermittently visible.
The temperature inside the house differed from the outside by nearly forty degrees.
Steam formed on the glass due to the heat, water droplets slipped along, repeatedly soaked by the humid vapor. Water droplets also dripped from the plant by the window, making it even more vivid and fresh.
Yvonne Finley's vision was quite blurred.
She wasn't sure if it was because the lighting here was too dim, or because a mist was floating in her eyes. Things were getting blurry before her eyes; a whirring echoed in her ears, coupled with her rapidly thumping heart.
She reached out, trying to push away the stray hair on her cheek.
