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The little raccoon and the musician and their home
*'It’s snowing. Fluffy flakes swirl outside the window, buffeted by the winds that howl down the chimney. Winter has truly set in and the little raccoon is glad to not be desperately searching for food in the white world outside.
But he watches the snow anyway, trying to catch it against the glass, taking kit-like joy in how its harmless to him now.
Wilbur strokes a hand down his back.
It’s warm.'
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Bookmark Notes:
GOD
GODDDD
GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD