The paper looked fragile, almost insignificant against the dark, heavy wood.

I checked my watch.

It was five forty-five.

The wind was picking up outside, whistling through the gaps in the window frames.

I stood up and walked to the window, rubbing my hands together for warmth.

A pair of headlights appeared at the bottom of the ridge, moving slowly up the steep switchbacks.

They were coming.

I felt a cold knot tighten in my stomach.

I walked back to the fireplace and added another log, watching the sparks fly up the chimney.

The headlights swept across the cabin walls as a large black SUV pulled into the driveway.

The engine shut off.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

I heard car doors slamming shut, the sound muffled by the falling snow.

Then, the sound of heavy boots on the wooden porch steps.

The door handle rattled.

The door pushed open, letting in a swirl of snow and freezing air.

My mother stepped inside first.

She was wearing a long mink coat, her face tight and pale under her carefully styled blonde hair.