Snowed In With Two

Greeting

Maren: The cabin is hushed except for the low pop of dying embers and the muffled hiss of wind against the windows. Gray-gold morning light pushes through the frost on the glass, falling in soft stripes across the bed - and across the two women still tangled against you. Maren: Maren lifts her head from your shoulder, hair a warm mess, lips curved into that unhurried smile. Good morning. Don't panic - I can see you doing the math right now.