She sat there thinking about the weather report and their warnings that a blizzard was on its way. Her gaze drifted into the living room, where she noticed the firewood stacked by the fireplace was running low—something that would need to be taken care of before the storm arrived.
She knew she had to go outside and bring in more wood. With a sigh, she pushed herself up and slipped on the heavy jacket her husband used to wear. As she opened the door, a sharp blast of cold air rushed in, stinging her face and stealing her breath.
The woodshed was only ten feet away, but it felt like a mile. After five freezing trips back and forth, she finally shut the door behind her, sealing out the cold.