Martha stood gazing out the front window at the park across the street. The deep cold of winter had settled in. At twilight, there was nothing inviting about the park. Cold, bare, and without the laughter of children, without any warmth at all, there was nothing to do there.
She glanced behind her at George, his nose buried in his newspaper. As usual. Few words passed between them these days, and inside, her heart was a cold and barren as the park. They’d just had their only conversation of the day.
“Reading my paper. “