She turned to a fresh page. At the top, she wrote: November 7th. First snow. Unofficial change of season.
She poured the tea and sat by the frosted glass. A text from her sister: You okay? First snow. Feels early this year. Marta typed back: Seasons change on their own schedule. Sent it. Then added: I’m okay. The second part felt less true. change of season dates
She paused. The snow kept falling.