Two more attempts finally reminded him the damned thing was probably locked. Flicking the switch, he pulled again.The woman fell forward into the hous....He caught her instinctively, left arm wrapping around her, drawing her against his fluffy robe as his right hand shoved the door back shut. Her body was wet, cold, snow falling off it onto the floor. He stood still. Slowly, his brain began noticing certain details.1. She was NOT wearing a red snowsuit as he had first suspected.2. In fact, she. No hand rising out of the grave, either. Double good.Mike reached out, tracing the carved letters. Meaningless. All meaningless.Then why did a part of him give it meaning?Part of him wanted to sit. Sit and talk. He rose instead. The dead of winter was not the time for that. He had other things to do this day, other rituals to perform. Mike found himself closing his eyes again."I still love you."With a sigh, he turned back towards the road.A woman was standing beside a strange car, looking at. More

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