I rushed to pack our bags so we could drive to the party before the afternoon storm. The cousins rode in the back, two of them ate fries and watched a movie, and the other one slept. White fog moved toward us from the west. “How much longer,” he asked more than once during the trip. We were halfway there then 30 minutes away. On the back roads into town, snowflakes hit the windshield. I opened the car door, they ran into the wharehouse, ready for pizza and jumping.
