Quiet Work

Morn was at hand without noise. The mercilessly cold light on frosty windows and the faintly audible swearing off snow in a roof somewhere off. Annabelle woke up to the slow beat of Ezra breathing by her and the slight movement of twins in the blankets at her feet. As if she were listening to the world as though it were not in a hurry.

Dawn tasted honest.

She lifted herself up rubbing her palms over her eyes. Their throats were hairy with chequered sleep, but her arms were ...