Chapter Text
“Timothy always hated the snow,” Susan says, as she comes in stomping off her shoes and unwinding her scarf. As she brushes past Sam, standing in the kitchen doorway, Sam can’t help but notice the scent of cold air and the sweat of exertion. She closes her eyes against the sudden desire to press a kiss to the warm crease of Susan’s neck.
Susan speaks of her husband in the past tense, though he is only abroad, not dead. Though for how long, no one seems to know. Sam allows that thought to touch her lips in a secret smile.