ArtWrite 8/17: Mostafa Sarabi
Updated: Dec 4, 2020
The heat in the cabin was broken, so they spent the day next to the fireplace -- reading, playing backgammon, and eating dinner on TV trays.
It was too dangerous to keep the fire going as they slept, so they waited until the last of the embers faded. Outside, the full moon illuminated the bare branches and the ripples on the pond. The muffled sounds of owls pulsated in the trees.
Under quilts and blankets, they bound their huddled feet in a wool shawl and clasped their hands inside a muff that had belonged to her grandmother. Naked and one, they were warm.