She was having a good time, a wonderful time, and it was certainly a sad thing to have it ending so soon. But she knew a week was enough (especially for Alfred) and they would be going home today. Hypothetically. She was just slowly coaxing herself awake when she heard her name. Margaret being the least-used thing she could ever possibly be called, particularly by him, she had to assume the worse, jumping out of bed and hastily shoving her glasses onto her face to run out to him.
"What's wrong?" Maggie was, predictably, in panic mode. "What is it?"
Maggie glanced outside, expecting a ravenous bear, or perhaps a wendigo, something truely frightening and worthy of terror. She blinked, slowly, then smiled.
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"What's wrong?" Maggie was, predictably, in panic mode. "What is it?"
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"That."
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"Oh. It snowed."
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