The Law (short story)
THE LAW by M.P. Conn Small rays of light seeped through the night that still reigned outside. Morning seemed hesitant, shy, lingering behind the trees, its faint blush painting the sky’s pale cheeks. I did not resent the night; I had always woken early to watch the light pursue and banish it. But today, peace eluded me. Soon winter snow would arrive—like a hesitant bride advancing down the aisle, her trailing veil spilling over the earth, cloaking it in white. With her would come silence: nature sleeping, laid down in her frozen bed, waiting for spring to breathe her awake again. This was meant to be my favorite season. I ought to have been happy, snug within my little one-room cabin. I had stacked enough wood for the fire to burn all winter. I had lined the cellar shelves with jars and preserves to last until spring...
