Mirriam took a sip of her tepid coffee as she watched yet another group of children and adults pass by her garden gate. Everyone had a sled in tow, a smile on their face and a carol on their lips. Her own smile drooped when she realized that they weren't Christmas carolers. They went on by, minding their business and leaving her to hers, as they had all year long.

She pulled the heavy curtain over the frosty window panes and turned back to her computer. At first she didn't want to rent a cottage in Westfarthing, in the middle of nowhere. Her doctor prevailed. The cleaner air would help her lungs heal. The slower pace would temper her type "a" personality. Her company allowed telecommuting, so that was yet another objection brushed aside.

Mirriam rarely spoke to a single soul other than the delivery boy and the mail carrier. The locals weren't unfriendly. They just didn't engage, other than the offhand, cheery greeting on the rare occasions when she ventured out. She didn't mind all that much. Big blocks of data were always more alluring to her than human company.

The last of twilight came and went, unnoticed by Mirriam until she ran out of coffee. Though it was much too late for anyone to be abroad, she pulled back the curtain a sliver and peered out, something in her yearning for a glimpse-- of what, she did not know. The well-trod path by her cottage contained only snow and starlight.