4. “You worry too much,” she said on the other end of the line. “The road is covered with snow. But there’s no ice. I’ll be back at seven. Eat dinner without me. “ David Green hung up and gazed out the window. The snow was a veil in front of the cold pane. He could not see the driveway, the gorge, or Onion Hill. He tried to type but his worry about Freida’s drive to the cabin sapped him of resolve. Eli was scratching on the door, so David thought he’d take a short walk. Eli sprinted. He disappeared behind the veil of snow. David picked up yesterday’s New York Times from the porch step and took a few steps forward and then looked back. The cabin was gone. He walked back to the spot where he thought it should be but he was stuck in an expanse of white. David was seized by panic. Continue or stop? He stopped, but the cold and blowing snow congealed, making his mind sluggish. He whistled for Eli. The dog bounded into Green’s vision. He grasped him by his mane. “Where the cabin, boy?” The dog wagged his tail. “Show me, the cabin. Go Eli!” and the dog bounded away. “Wait!” Green screamed and dropped the Times. “Wait” And he took ten broad steps in the direction of the dog before the world fell away, and he realized that he was cascading down the slope of the gorge. Green bounced off the diving rock, and was unconscious when he hit the water. Twenty minutes later and half a mile downstream, David Green was dead.