She walks through the ankle-deep snow, using the footprints I left behind when I’d made my feeble excuse. I can see where my footprints end, just beyond the little cabin, and where hers continue for a few steps longer. Even in the dark it’s painfully obvious there are no more footsteps. While I silently berate myself for not being more careful, Lois stops, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to keep some of the warmth in. It’s cool outside and I don’t have a jacket, just a warm woolen sweater.
Yes Clark, you are so definitely in trouble. Toomis8, this is an excellent reveal, best of all Lois was not Mad Dog Lane throughout the story. It was a calm, mature conversation between two friends who work together.
