The alarm clock flashed the numbers 5:45 like little hazard
lights as Robin reached over quilted blankets to turn it off.
She climbed out of bed, put on her robe, and walked down
the stairs to her son’s bedroom.

From the light of the hallway, she could see a thin layer of
ice on Justin’s bedroom door. She slid an index finger
across the frost and watched it melt into teardrop sized
beads of water. Justin had wrapped himself in blankets and
towels to keep warm. His cheeks were flushed and he
looked cold, but at least he was still sleeping. She walked
back up the stairs to her bedroom, stubbing her toe against
the foot of the bed as she walked inside.

“Jesus, Robin, be quiet,” Drew said. “And put on some
coffee before you start up the milking machines. Christ!”

“Sorry, honey. I stubbed my toe,” she whispered, sitting
down on the edge of the bed.

Drew turned over in bed, pulling the quilted comforter over
his naked body. “Just be quiet!”