The snow fell in heavy sheets, sifting its way from the heavens and finding its footing

somewhere on the land or on the cabin.

I wasn't sure what time it was and it didn't care to find out.

I knew it was later in the evening.

Most hours of the day looked the same from where we were in the North Pole.

A dim white with a sun barely kissing the horizon.

It's typical.

It's September.

The wind had a constant roaring fire.

Stink hot waps of its heat.

It still feel where the cold air is set through the cracks of the wooden structure.

The storm wasn't letting up anytime soon.

Another cop.

They asked me.

I held it out and nodded.

We poured the almost boiling coffee in my mug and I topped it with a shot or two of

ice cold vodka, making the perfect drinking temperature.

Lauren?

We offered her the same.

And as as I had she agreed.

The smell of coffee riddled the cabin, mixing with tobacco smoke.

The faintest hint of chicken broth from hours earlier.

...