# She Was Buried Beneath the Snow. He Was Buried Beneath the Truth.

look like a traffic signal,” I said.

“You look warm.”

“My coat was brown.”

“Your coat is covered in dog hair, blood, and afterbirth.”

“It was a good coat.”

“It performed admirably.”

She drove an aging silver Buick that smelled faintly of peppermint and coffee.

The city outside had begun digging itself free.

Snowplows shoved walls of gray ice toward sidewalks continue reading …