The beach

I step off the deck, carefully avoiding the ice patches as Shorty sprints to sniff recently left rabbit prints. My face is covered with a scarf, my feet with boots, my head with a hat, my hands with gloves. The wind, thankfully, is absent. Shorty continues sniffing on his preordained trail, first checking the raspberry bush, then the holes in the fence, then the lilac tree. Stars twinkle shyly in the denim-blue sky, a moon sliver tucked in its back pocket. I close my eyes and repurpose the sound of nearby traffic as ocean waves crashing into rocks. The outside light glinting onto the snow makes it glitter like white sand. Beach sand. Warm beach sand. I burrow my nose further into my scarf. For a moment, there is no cold, only warmth. Shorty prances up to me holding up his paw, his rabbit hunt completed and his feet chilly.

“You’re right, buddy,” I tell him. “Let’s go back inside. It’s effing cold out.”