Bab 830: A Far Drive

The elevator ride back down to the snow, cold, and harshness of the outdoors was both short and everlasting. Amanda was a perpetual music box of sniffles and snorts, long and often enough that she pretty much became a part of the ambiance. 

Whirring, creaking, dinging, and then somewhere between the three or even preceding them all, Amanda took it away, playing the sickly, infectious song of her people.

We stepped out into the lobby, and shambling a little more, spilled out into the outside world away from the safety and refuge of warming heaters, wooly blankets, and ginger tea. The breeze seemed breezier than I remembered, the cold a little colder; as if Mother Nature had sensed a particularly stubborn individual and was attempting to dissuade her from a single step more.