A Year of Stories

Partly Cloudy

 "No"

"Come on. It's not so bad."

"I said no."

"When did you become such a –"

"It's 10 degrees out there!"

"So? They'll wear sweaters...they love sweaters!"

"They're going to die!"

"Not ... many..."

"You're being obstinate."

"No, I'm doing my job...Have you even looked at the calendar?"

"There is doing your job...Snow, and then there's murdering people. Guess which side you'll fall on if we don't let up pretty soon."

"You've got half the planet still, why are you even here bothering me?"

"Because ever since Francine walked out, you've become a..."

"Become a what, Sand?"

"Become a vicious, dangerous zealot! Yea...I get it. December, it's yours. I'm not going to fight you on that, but when Blizzard of all people calls me and tells me you've had him working nonstop for the last month – it starts to look like you're losing control..."

"This has nothing to do with her Sand, and I'd thank you to not bring her up anymore."

"Did you ever talk to anyone like I asked you to? Wind maybe? She's usually..."

"Leave it alone Sand!"

"5 degrees..."

"And whose fault is that!"

"Snow. Listen to me, the others are starting to talk. They think you're...overworked."

"You mean Rain is talking..."

"It's more than just Rain."

"But Rain started it..."

"Maybe..."

"I knew it! Well, why don't you go and tell Rain that if he has something to say to me, he should come say it himself instead of sending you to do his dirty work. By the way, since when do you and Rain talk?"

"It's off season Snow, we talk all the time, and Rain is just concerned..."