The days had grown unbearably gray. The oppressive clouds seemed to press down on them, making the cabin feel even smaller. Roman had been unusually quiet all morning, his focus shifting between fixing a creaky floorboard and staring out the window.
When Ivy Mae walked in, humming a tune as she set a kettle on the stove, Roman snapped. "Can you not do that right now?"
Ivy Mae froze, her eyes wide. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. “Just... stop.”
Jas, sitting at the table with an old book, looked up. “Hey, knock it off. No need to be rude.”
Roman slammed the hammer down and stalked out of the cabin.
The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable. Ivy Mae sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s this weather. It’s getting to all of us.”
Jas nodded, staring at the book in front of them without really seeing it. The days blurred together, a mix of chores, survival, and waiting for... something.
But what?