#thomasrowe

THOMAS: It’s been years since I’ve done this.

ELLEN: I’ve always liked it.

They watch the snow fall in the fading daylight.

THOMAS: It makes you feel… grounded.

A beat.

THOMAS: And not.

A silence.

THOMAS: I brought biscuits. Would you like one?

He offers her a small stack of biscuits wrapped in a cloth napkin. She takes one. 

ELLEN: Were you planning to eat all of those yourself? 

THOMAS: They’re very, very good.

She takes a bite.

ELLEN: I must admit, you’re right.

THOMAS: Eleanor’s biscuits have become a Christmas tradition.

They eat their biscuits. They each take a second one.

ELLEN: No wonder Bennett never shared the parcels she sent him.

He chuckles.

THOMAS: I tried your ladoos.

ELLEN: Did you enjoy them?

THOMAS: Very much. The children were making short work of them.

ELLEN: I’m glad.

She smiles.

ELLEN: Then there’ll be more biscuits for us.

They lie side by side in silence, as the snow settles on them.

ELLEN: Can you still see me?

He turns his head. She is nearly covered in snow. 

THOMAS: Barely.

She sits up.

THOMAS: You look like a snowman.

She shakes the snow from her skirts.

ELLEN: Close your eyes. The snowman has some dignity left.

THOMAS: Wait.

He struggles to his feet and offers her a hand. 

ELLEN: Thank you.

He pulls her up. She rises awkwardly, tangled in her heavy skirts.