Stinging pellets of ice beat like tiny bullets against Elizabeth’s face as she raced up the steps to the front door of the darkened house. All around, the night hung as if the storm clouds, heavily laden with snow, were pressing down on her, smothering her. She felt as though she had to fight her way forward, futilely batting her arms against sodden, clinging blankets that slapped her heavily, holding her back. In spite of the inches-thick cushion of snow, her shoes clacked loudly on the wooden steps. Due to her exhaustion, the stairs seemed to telescope outward, multiplying to dozens instead of the seven she had counted from the ground. Finally, she reached the relative shelter of the doorway. She pressed her weight against the door and fumbled for the doorknob. There was no time for the formality of knocking. She was desperate! She had to get inside the house and out of the storm. Her hands were chilled and didn’t want to work as she struggled with the latch.
