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Fareeha opened the window. White. She closed it, opening it again. Nothing but white. Panic.
“BABE The world ended! Sekhmet must’ve massacred everyone, I think we’re stuck in the afterlife!” Fareeha shouted at the top of her lungs, drawing a very blurry-faced and sleepy Angela from upstairs, yawning.
“What….don’t be stupid...You don’t believe in ancient mythology...besides” A second, louder yawn filled Mercy’s mouth before she could finish, “It’s all fake...science isn’t..” Angela rambled on, making a beeline to the closest chair, almost collapsing onto the kitchen table. Fareeha continued to open and close the curtains in horror, no closer to an explanation.
“Then how do you explain this?!” Pharah slammed her open palm against the glass, getting Angela to look up for a split second before she closed her eyes again.
“Looks like...we’re snowed in…” Angela mummered, stretching her arms across the table as she set her chin down, looking like a napping kitten more than anything. “We’ll have to..shovel later”
Fareeha let the words sink in as she stared at her jellybean of a wife. Opening the door to the garage with a sense of challenge, Mrs. Amari dug around various storage, looking for, and eventually finding, a wide shovel. “Yeah, this’ll do. I think.” She swung it like a baseball bat, feeling the power coursing through her veins before heading back upstairs to properly bundle up.
With her checklist complete, Fareeha stood, battle-ready, before the front door, her scarf covering her face, save for her eyes, and her mittens clenched around the wood of her shovel. She slowly opened the door, preparing for the worst. In front of her was a wall of waist-high snow. She laughed in the face of waist-high snow. “This’ll be easy!” Said the person who has never had to deal with waist-high snow.
“Fuckin’ hell!” Fareeha plunged the blade of her shovel into the snow, leaning against to take a breather, having made it about halfway to the driveway from the front door. “This is fucking awful!”
Slowly getting back to work, Pharah threw shovels and shovels of white powder to the sidelines, slowly making progress. Every muscle, every fiber in her being cried out in protest to the inhuman task. It wasn’t long before Fareeha sat on the ground, swallowing air.
A few seconds later the garage door opened with the ‘ mmmmmmmgrgrgrgrrrggggrgrgkk ’ that a garage door does. Angela stepped out, pushing a snowblower and looking considerably more awake.
“What are you doing with the wood chipper?” Pharah frowned, confused as Angela turned on the machine. It purred to life, Ziegler shooting her lovebird a smile as she starting pushing, doing as much work as Fareeha in half the time. She was speechless, at least until her pride rebounded. “You think a machine can beat me?”
“This snow-blower can out-shovel any women or man.” Angela beamed, patting the expensive-looking piece of equipment. The contest was set, woman against machine. Well Amari there, yes sir, whipped her shovel around and got right to work without another word. White powder filled the air, both determined to finish their side of the yard first. After half an hour, the score was set. Fareeha had her side clean with vigor, while the machine still had four feet left to go.
Pharah held her shovel up in triumph, swaying from exhaustion. Angela stopped the snow blower, conceding against the athletic titan. There was nothing to be said. Mercy dragged the machine inside as Fareeha collapsed in the soft snowbank. The sound of the closing garage door secured her victory in the halls of legend. The major finished catching her breath before trudging back inside.
The couple sat on the couch, Fareeha laying her weary head in Angela’s lap as the two watched T.V., a harshly competitive cooking show on-screen. Ziegler was getting just a little too into it, but remained careful not to jostle her resting wife.
“C’mon! Fuck up that steak! I hope you get eliminated for that nutmeg, you pompous hack!”
Fareeha laughed, nuzzling Angela’s stomach for attention. “Babe, I think he’s doing fine. He’s probably gonna win. Leave him alone”
“But in the interview section he was all like ‘oh this is nothing’ and ‘these guys are no match for me’! Fuck him!” Angela punched the air in frustration, rooting for a bearded italian chef as he turned over the meat in the frying pan. “That guy deserves to win! He was nice!”
“I don’t think you understand how competitions work, babe.” Fareeha said softly, recalling the gratuitous amount of sports from her childhood. Mercy fell back against the couch, disgruntled.
“Whatever.”
Pharah paused, blinking before looking up. “Did I win anything from beating the wood chipper at shoveling?”
“This lap pillow.”
“How bout a kiss?” Fareeha puckered up comedically, forcing a smile out of Angela as she bent down to meet her mouth with her own. The snow continued to fall outside, slowly undoing the day’s work in unfair reality. That was okay with these two, as hot things filled the house. Hot chocolate, hot blankets, hot and heavy breathing. It was a good evening.