Scraping

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Scraping

Shivering, the two friends emerged from the rundown trailer. Breath visible in the air, they laughed at the relative warmth they felt just stepping outside. Shoulders quaking, the leaner of the two zipped his collar all the way up and closed the door behind him.

Without the yellow glow, the velvet hush of a frosted yard whispered up to them. Mirroring the sky above, twinkling flakes of ice reflected the starlight back and spread a dazzling scene in front of them. If they had stopped to look before walking to an old beat up sedan and kicking the grit off the tires.

Swearing from the chill, the pair scavenged their tools from under a mess of bottles and old papers inside the car. Chatting while they picked and scraped the heavy layer of frost, they exchanged jokes. Working away on the windshield, one laughed again as he realized it felt warmer outside than inside. Ribbing his friend about the heating, he cleared the passenger side window and slid into the car.

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