Nov 18, 2009 20:46
[It is a quiet night in camp. (Unless someone it exploded a toaster again, but over in this part it is fairly silent and without mayhem, for the moment.) All there is the black of the night, the gentle snow fall, and the crunch of snow underneath a woman's heeled shoe. . . Until she pauses and takes a picture of the scene.]
There. . . That was a lot harder than I thought it would be.