by Rick BurskyIt was windy in the snow globe. Our windowpanes rattled. Snow piled at the door. We held hands and sat cross-legged on the floor. We didn't know when the storm would pass. Take whatever you want, she said. I said the same. And neither of us took a thing. After we let go of each other I couldn't decide what to do with my hands. She decided to run sobbing from the house, into the swirling snow. That was the last time I saw her. Yes, we were once that small.
