Romy povThe next afternoon, the wind dropped, leaving the yard silent under a thick layer of white crust. I walked out to the vehicle garage to check the tire chains on the black SUV, my boots sinking three inches into the snow before I reached the rolling metal door.Aaron was sitting on an upturned plastic bucket near the oil bins, a small stone in his hand as he rubbed the edge of his hunting knife. He didn’t look up when the garage latch clicked, but his arm went stiff, the stone scraping against the metal with a sharp, screeching sound.“The truck is fine, Romy,” Aaron said, his voice dropping flat into the oil-stained concrete of the floor. “I finished checking the fluids an hour ago.”“You’ve been spending the whole day out here, Aaron,” I said, walking closer until my shadow fell across his boots. The smell of diesel oil and antifreeze was thick in the unheated building, mixing with th
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