Without a Trace

The envelope’s shredded remains littered the counter. Finger tapping lips, she contemplated a plan. Tossing the paper she hobbled on tired, pain-riddled feet, scooped bathroom items into a bag, then crammed clothes, outerwear and shoes into her time and travel worn suitcase. After the travel agent emailed tickets and reservations she called a taxi. She fled – no note.
Escape accomplished, warmly bundled, she stepped outside the hotel into a snowflakes fluttering, snow covered fantasy under the slate gray skies of North Pole Alaska. Gathering the fur trimmed hood under her chin she shuffled away from Februpocolypse into February bliss.

1383SantaClausHouseP

stylized-plant-separation

Writing today for Thin Spiral Notebook’s 100 Word Challenge¬†where this week’s word is “Paper”, and another challenge from a friend to write about changing a dismal February into a dream come true.