Drier.
More… harder.
Alma understood.
The winter would be brutal.
He ran to the village, his heart racing.
“We need to prepare,” he said, trying to sound firm. “This winter won’t be normal.”
But the answers were the same as always.
Laughter.
Looks of contempt.
—There you go again with your strange ideas.
—You’re just like your mother.
—Leave us alone.
His father was the worst.
“Don’t you ever embarrass me again!” she shouted in front of everyone. “If you can’t behave like a normal person… then you don’t belong here.”
Silence fell.
Alma felt something inside her break.
“Then… I’ll leave,” he said.
Nobody stopped her.
