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… to get free of the mass of snow and the mattress that had been pushed over me. And then I woke up.
The next winter an avalanche hit the village, coming down from that exact mountain. My father’s house was almost spared, the snow filling only one room — my bedroom.

The Summer I Stopped Talking
423
12

T. H. Cleemann

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A A McRae

Written by A A McRae

1.4K Followers

I am a teacher, parent, cookie-baking experimenter, library enthusiast, and all-around bookworm. Twitter and Instagram: @aamcraewrites

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