It is snowing

55 Fiction about a loss of someone loved.

“It is snowing,”  she said.

No reply.

“Seems, it has been snowing all night.” 

She paused.

Silence.

“Remember, when we met, it was snowing, too. Wind. Frost. You. Looking at me.”

“Mom,”  silence was interrupted. “Talking to dad again? He is fine. He is with angels now.”

Crying, she hugged her son.

It was snowing.