Slow River

She could not heal all of Spa

Winter had come slowly and gently Lore’s first year in the city, but the soft grays of December changed suddenly to an iron frost in January. The sun no longer reached high enough to coat the sandstone of the Polar Bear with gold. In the morning, the light was lemony-gray, like a falsely tinted black and white photograph. People walking stiffly in the cold on their way to the slide poles squinted against the long, slanting sunshine, the occasional glitter of frost on the pavement. A squirrel, its thick winter coat-making it comical, like a furry dumpling, looked up at the ice-slicked cable that ran past the second-floor window, and stayed on the ground. It scrabbled halfheartedly at the frozen dirt around the roots of the tree outside. Lore wondered why it wasn’t hibernating.

Outside, the temperature plummeted. Spa

They were watching the news and drinking loc—a hot, chocolate liqueur—when they heard about a fire in the warehouse district.

“Get your coat on.”

By the time they got there, the firefighters were gone and all that was left was the stink of charred three-hundred-year-old timbers and bricks cracked open by the heat. The warehouse was still dripping, but icicles were forming, and the lake of hose water was turning to sheet ice. There was no one about; it was too cold for sightseeing. In the orangy street light, Lore’s breath cloud looked like a bizarre special effect.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“What-” But Spa

“What are you doing?”

“This is the master switch”—she pointed at a red panel—“but we don’t want them all.” She flipped up the lid of the nearest of a row of squat gray boxes and touched something. Four streetlights went dark. She opened a second box. More lights went out.

“Come on.” She pulled a hand light from her pocket. Its blue-white beam licked at the rubble. She scrambled up over a pile of bricks and pipe. The flashlight whipped around as she turned. “What’s the matter?”

Lore shaded her eyes with her hand, spoke to a silhouette. “It won’t be safe. Why don’t we just wait for the fire-fighters to come back when it’s light and flatten everything. Then we could take our time.”

“Five minutes after the building is safe, there won’t be anything left. And there are some good timbers here.”

There were. There were so many that once Spa

“But what do we want wood for?” Lore asked.

“A new front door.”

“What’s wrong with the one we have?”

“Does it matter? Maybe I just want a new one.”

Lore eyed the beams warily. Risking their lives, just because Spa

Lore and Spa

Lore stretched her back and kicked the old door, “I don’t relish hauling it about in this weather.”

“We could break it up for firewood.”

“We don’t need a fire. It’s already hot in here.” The flat was stifling. Spa

But Spa

“I said, we don’t need a fire. It’s-”

“If you’re hot, open the windows. Fresh air’s good for you.” She swung again.

Lore did not understand Spa

“I’m sure I must have.” Rip. Splinter.

Lore moved the plants. We’ll need some paper, and kindling. I think.” She rummaged around. “We don’t have any paper.”

Spa

Lore trooped into the bedroom. Looked. “There’s only your box.”

“Then we’ll use some of that stuff.”

“No. We can-”

“Bring it,” Spa

“Open it.” Crunch, splinter.

It was full of old photographs and documents. What looked like a birth certificate from the middle of the last century. “I don’t think you’ll want to use this.” She started to put the lid back on, uncomfortable with the idea that she had been wrist-deep in Spa

Spa

“But don’t you want-”

Spa

Lore grabbed her hands. “Stop. Stop just a minute. We can go buy some paper if you like. You don’t have to use these.” Spa

“It’s just paper.”

They were Spa

Lore walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle. Instead of putting it on the burner, she stared outside. Once she could see past her own reflection, she saw there was a squirrel in the garden, digging. Digging up her bulbs, eating them one by one. All that work, gone in an afternoon. She felt bitter. There did not seem to be any point in trying.

Back in the living room Spa

“It’s not working.” Spa

Lore plucked a large splinter from the rug, examined it. “It’s not wood,” she said. “I mean, it is, but it’s that pressed stuff. It’s not going to burn.”

“Fuck it!” Spa

They went out and drank too much and came back to hard, sweaty sex and fitful sleep. At least Lore slept. When she woke up, Spa