kristin

“The bay never freezes,” observes little Bodhi, “until it’s frozen.”

And he has a point. Waves are crashing on the sand at the beach down the road, but the boats in the harbor aren’t going anywhere. Trapped in the ice, their goofy names are barely visible on their snow-encrusted sterns: “Aunt Edna” and “Fortitude” are now just “t Ed” and “tit.”
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