Blanketed

There had been snow on the ground for two weeks, fresh falls covering what had melted and refrozen, so that there was a hard layer under the soft and it was impossible to imagine the world being colourful again. Impossible for everyone but Mr Garland, whose eyes turned to the soft curves outside his door and thought of what was hidden underneath. While the snow lasted, he could not move it, and the world could not see it. Fate kept its hands tucked in its pockets for warmth. But in time the snow would melt, and they would all see it, and him.