Tales Of Corwin

They sat in silence for a minute. Terri, on a kitchen chair, tucked up into a ball, hugging her knees and staring into space; she looked like a little lost waif, Mark thought. But the moment passed, and she brightened again. “So! I’ve had an idea,” she said, “and I want to run it by you guys.” “Get a glass of wine, then, and tell us about it,” said Mark. Mark put his fudge pot in the sink to soak, while Sandra got Terri a glass of wine. “Something’s not right,” Terri began, once they were all seated around the kitchen table. “This winter of storms we’re preparing for—I just feel like we’re missing something. The generators and all that, that’s great. But, somehow, it still feels sort of depressing. Like we’re all just hunkering down. Like we’re bracing ourselves for a hard time.” “Bracing ourselves,” repeated Sandra. “Yeah, that’s about the size of it.” “That’s how I feel too,” Mark said. “That was a pretty grueling vision Timi had. It’s given me … I don’t know … sort of a feeling of impending doom. So,