By Brett Roth
His dog paced anxiously for relief, but snow was up to Dixie’s stubby tail, and Juice understood her reluctance. He was grateful the electricity stayed on. His wife’s cancer was in remission, but Juice’s worry was unrelenting, and firing up a generator to keep the house warm was extra. On snowy days in Massachusetts, Juice missed the serenity of mountains.
The smell of coffee was an antidote against the wind’s insistent bellowing. The radiators gurgled with heat. Although Juice was quietly sipping coffee, the house was noisy and alive. His wife, Priscilla, slept fitfully in their bedroom, her sister, Pamela, snored in the guestroom, her appearance as expected as the storm. Pamela gambled and won a free weekend at a casino in Connecticut. She frequently visited after her luck ran out. Dixie’s nails clicked softly on the hardwood floor. Continue reading