My Turn
It’s time for spring, but winter wasn’t budging.
The old woman squinted to make out the approaching figure, then groaned when she recognized the young girl. As the girl neared, the woman’s black coat began to feel too heavy. “Quit your flitting about, Millie,” the old woman scolded. “I’m not flitting. I’m dancing,” said the girl. “It’s what I do when I’m excited.” “Hmph.” The old woman turned up her nose. Millie smiled as each prancing step melted the snow underfoot. “D...
