Even Lovers Get the BluesSnowflakes do not fall silently. They make sounds, depending on where you are. Standing in the middle of the woods, they sound like sparkling wind, groaning pines, and snoring filtering up from the deeply buried burrows of little creatures. In the Round Corners Restaurant, they sound like the bell of the cash register. It had snowed every day since Thanksgiving, and ski conditions were irresistible. The ski patrol practically had to throw the skiers off the slopes at the end of the day. They had to shovel them off the ice rink with the Zamboni machine. Skiers and skaters stomped into the cafe tired and ravenous, carrying snowflakes on their shoulders. Their sunburned, wind-chapped cheeks glowed. Their laughter was weary but happy. With every jangle of the bell over the door, I looked up. T-Bone promised he would be in tonight. I heard the door again and spun around. But, it was Odie, standing by the register where long ago the Maud Calhoun greeting cards had run out.
