Dear Eric, Here where we live the lines are down and the surprises build into snowbanks above us. Each day changes our condition, but still the lines are down. Don't send help. Help gets lost. If you could be here and see with the absolute clarity our distances give, your knees would melt, your heart freeze. We have your rain, we have your heat and cold, and we have the wind we send to you. In early daylight, soon, some animal that knows you will turn its nose to catch that wind. It will come stalking in your dreams. The Others