It was drizzling outside, the rain tapping against the window. Mrs. Langtree leaned back into her armchair as the old record spun on its turntable. The sound that com from it was a warm sound from the twenties, a kindly old voice warbling with a rustic tin horn accompanying it. Outside, it was cold, though it might get colder if the storm picked up. In here, though, the warmth was everpresent.
Mrs. Langtree pulled her blanket tighter around her as she sipped her tea. She looked at the clock and realized that it was half-past nine.