Claire Hunter

Dinner guests

It is snowing outside, big puffy flakes. The sky wasn’t quite dark, the house was. “I should start dinner, “she thought, the quiet luring her in, the clumps of snow remind her of huddling teenagers. She was grateful that the snow just allowed her to be there, her presence unnoticed. She feels a sense of safety in the anonymity like wearing only lingerie under a ski coat, no one knows what’s there.