One Saturday morning Dani woke up early to an empty bed, and a remarkably quiet world. She glanced out the window. The neighborhood was completely covered with several feet of snow. You could barely make out the cars, and the street was completely invisible.
Nico came upstairs while she was looking. He was in his robe, but she could have sworn she saw the faintest twinkle of snowflakes on it. He must have stepped outside briefly. "Hey, do you want to go out and check it out?"
"Definitely, but not right now. I'm still tired, and I'm going back to sleep for a while."
"OK." He sounded a little disappointed. She smiled to herself. Like most men, he was like a kid about some things - that had been unexpected at first, but it had delighted her to learn about the small things he was remarkably enthused about. Snow was clearly one of them.
"If you want to go outside, there is a whole box full of ski clothes in the guest room that Ray ordered and I conveniently forgot to give to him. They should fit OK."
She was surprised at how quickly he agreed to that idea. "Great."
She climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Have fun. I'll join you later, Snowy."
A while later she awoke to the sound of snow thudding lightly at the window. She looked out. Nico was out there, smiling at her in the brilliant snow.
She opened it up and stuck her head out. "Hey there," she said.
He said, "I've been busy." He stepped aside to show her two snow sculptures behind him.
She peered at them, trying to make out the details through the blinding light of the snow.
"Nico, is that...us?"
He smiled and said, "I'm glad you could figure it out."
"Well, it was a safe guess." She looked more closely. "Are we...cats?"
He smiled impishly. The night before they had debated the merits of cats for what seemed like a ridiculously long time. "I thought that would get a rise from you."
"I'm...touched and impressed and slightly frightened. Wait, what is that lump between them?"
"Oh, I tried to have them holding hands but it didn't work. These aren't perfect snow sculpting conditions."
"First, don't you mean holding paws? Second, the true snow artist doesn't blame the equipment for his own deficiencies."
He laughed. "I'd like to see you try it."
"I will, I promise, this afternoon. But for now, why don't you come in and I'll warm you up?"
"Oh, really?"
"Get your mind out of the gutter for a moment, mister. I was talking warm clothes and a cup of hot chocolate."
"That sounds perfect."
"So, I'm assuming that Mr. "I want to play in the snow man" will want mini-marshmallows? I have some cute little pastel ones."
He grimaced. "Uh..."
"I'm KIDDING, Nico. I actually was going to make you a cup of hot chocolate for grownups - bittersweet chocolate with a teeny, tiny little drop of amaretto."
"A tiny little drop, huh?"
"Teeny tiny. Now come in, or you are going to get frostbitten, Mr. Special Snowflake."
"Are you ever going to stop with the snow-based nicknames?"
"Not until you come in, Freezy McFreezerson."
"OK, stop. I'm coming in, but on my own terms: The nicknames end now. Also, I expect hot chocolate, and I would like to remind you that you have promised to warm me up, and if the hot chocolate doesn't work, you'll have to find another way."
"Great. It's a no-lose situation then, Vanilla Ice."
She was surprised at how quickly he lobbed the snowball at her.