They were so young. Grins on their faces more often than not. Dressed in wool caps, fuzzy mittens, and brightly colored scarves. The backs of their snowsuits still showed evidence of the snow angels they’d just completed. An annual tradition at the first deep snow. Jill’s yard was always the scene. More often than not, they’d be in the midst of a wild dance to the blizzard gods when Mrs. Cranston called out to them, one by one. All of the names swallowed up by the cold, but loud enough so they knew her homemade hot chocolate was ready.

All these years later, Jill looking so beautiful in her wedding gown, they sat looking expectantly at Mrs. Cranston. Snow falling outside the church fellowship hall’s window, she held up her champagne flute: “To lasting friendship, my dears. You will always be my cold-nosed angels!”

It’s Prosery Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets across the globe. Today Bjorn is hosting from Stockholm, Sweden. He asks us to include the line All of the names swallowed up by the cold in our piece of prose/flash fiction that is 144 words or less in length, sans title. The line is from the poem “After Someone’s Death” by the late Swedish Nobel Laureate, Tomas Tranströmer.