The snow drifts gently down, coating the garden and laying a new pattern across her dark velvet jacket. she pulls the cloth around her tighter, the lace trim tickling her chin as she ducks her head to hide from the icy wind. inside, people make talk of the neighboring countries politics, discussing strategies of offense and defense. they think she is not listening, not caught up in the anxiety of a possible war, a possibility that looms over everyone’s heads, drawing nearer and nearer everyday. they think such matters do not concern her, she thinks bitterly, as she watches the garden fountain begin to ice over.