“We wait ‘til it passes.” He stared out the window, down into the white, where the streets should be, the ground. “Can’t be much longer.”
“It’s been three days—” She didn’t look up from her magazine, something from months ago, that had been left in a drawer in the room. “—without power, phone service, without anyone coming up out of that soup. How long are we just going to sit here? Until we starve to death?”
Sixteen hours ago, Frank had gone down to try to find the kitchen, flashlight in hand, and not returned. “We wait ‘til it passes.”
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