A lot can happen between spring and winter.
Elizabeth gripped the small wand down at her side and stared out the window. A gaggle of young sparrows had descended on the feeder hanging from a branch of the Japanese maple, which was brushed with the mint green of new growth. Birdseed flew through the air. Elizabeth brought the wand up to eye level and forced herself to look. Blue. Tears smeared her view of the sparrows.
She told him the next morning over French toast. He held the maple-syrup pitcher suspended in mid-air, as if the moment were a photograph with everything frozen, including his breathing. Then he got up, circled around to her side of the table, roped his arms around her shoulders, and said into her ear, “It’s wonderful,” while staring at the sage green of the dining-room wall. He had never been sure about that color.
At their 4th of July picnic, they told their friends Steven and Priscilla. Steven grinned and said, “I didn’t know you had it in you, Worth.”
“C’mon,” said Wortham. “Give me a break.”
As fall approached, Wortham was busy at the brokerage office most evenings. On Halloween night, Elizabeth wore an orange apron decorated with a jack-o-lantern face over her well-rounded belly and gave out the candy alone.
Late one afternoon before Christmas, Elizabeth struggled into the house with a shopping bag in each hand. She set the bags down and listened. The mantel clock ticked in the frigid air of the living room. The furnace in the basement sat silent. She entered the master bedroom and opened the double closet doors. Wortham’s suits were gone. She returned to the living room and looked out at the driveway. The rectangle where his car had been was filling in softly. “It’s snowing again,” she said to her reflection in the window.
(Word count: 300)