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And now on with the show. The Oh, I'm going to go. May we can't? It was the middle of winter and an elderly couple living in a rural section of northern Vermont,

sat at the dinner table chatting and finishing their wine while they enjoyed the warm coziness

that their cabin afforded them.

As they told each other stories from their respective days, they gazed out of the

picture frame window into the forest of leafless trees to marvel at the beautiful blue and white

hues of color reflecting off the forest floor, lit up by the full moon.

The old woman pondered just how ironic it was that she thought those cold colors were beautiful

at all, because if she wasn't in her warm house and was instead

stuck out there with nowhere to go, the whole setting would suddenly become a hellscape to her,

a dreadful place doing everything in its power to kill her. But since that layer of

wood and insulation and drywall was between her and the snow, what otherwise

would have been deadly seemed lovely. In a moment of quiet contentment, she

commented just how grateful she was for her home so safe and so comfortable. She

was grateful for those walls. Soon though, the uncertainty and risk and

shadow of the dark winter night would break into that pocket of warmth and

safety and change the couple's lives forever.

As the two continued to enjoy their evening,

...