Winter Grip

Yerl stopped going to the Zoom calls. He went for walks instead, after making up the excuse that his doctor told him he needed to move about more to reduce his stress. It sounded plausible enough, as his assumption was that they would ask why he was no longer participating. He could hear Dominic draw out the word, the way he did, and felt very much like the way his eight-year-old talked about attending virtual school.

The streets were trimmed with dirty snow as Yerl navigated the slushy sidewalks, piles of icy snow at each intersection. His wife hated winter, the cold, the snow, the short amount of sunshine. He wondered why she wouldn't just move. She never even bothered to ask him if he would do it, go somewhere warm. He wasn't sure if he would say yes, but each year the fun of winter, which was clearly in his genetic history, lost a little hold.