Rukia looks outside, observing the heavy snow.
She always preferred winter. The falling snow and the bleak looking gray skies – she appreciated it all.
It's a depressing picture, but there's something tragically beautiful about the cold.
Rukia mentally muses, "Is this how Emily Dickinson felt? Snow obscures objects, making nature much more ghostly than it already is."
Sighing, she heads back to the living room, picking up Volume 1 of The Familiar.
Sitting on her shabby gilt Italianate Rocco antique couch, she opens the book to wherever she left off and resumes reading.
It's nice to be snowed in. I can catch up on my reading. I want to finish both volumes before my already mounting workload increases.
She hears a car in her driveway.
Rukia frowns. "Who in their right mind decides to drive on ice? Black ice nonetheless? Idiot. I'll kill you if you leave oil stains on my driveway."
She turns to look at her frosted windows. "Ichigo?"
End notes:
One of the few (upcoming) drabbles with Rukia's perspective. They will occur sporadically, disrupting Ichigo's point of views.
