..it just seemed as if she were marking time while life rocketed past.

But you have to let go of it sometime, Gaby. You can't change the past, any of it, and hanging on just eats your life away.

Coincidence is the exception, not the rule.

I'm like my mother, she thought, I search my joy for signs of sorrow ahead.

Was it always to be like this? she wondered. A moment of joy followed by a new sorrow?

The wind crooned softly as it dusted the snow against the windows, wrapping them in a thick and fluffy cotton blanket.