How an Email Invitation to a Colorado Christmas Dinner Ended Eight Years of Separation
I worked a soft yellow cloth into the leather toes, buffing out the scuffs on the shoes we had bought on clearance three months before.
Lucas stood by the granite counter with my phone, refreshing the regional Doppler weather radar every few minutes.
He scuffed the toe of his right shoe against the floorboards, his eyes fixed on the purple cloud mass spreading across the western slope of the Rocky Mountains.
“The National Weather Service issued a severe winter blizzard warning for Independence Pass and the Roaring Fork valley twenty minutes ago,” Lucas said, his slow, thoughtful voice cutting through the quiet kitchen.
“They’re forecasting twenty to twenty-six inches of heavy snow starting tomorrow night.”
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