(miniflash story)

A blizzard enveloped the village, hiding the houses under white blankets. The wind whistled as if it were saying something important, but the words were lost in the blizzard.

In a small hut, an old grandmother was throwing wood into the stove, telling her grandchildren stories about equally stormy winters.

The kettle whistled on the stove, which meant that they would now drink tea. The grandchildren and grandmother continued their hearty conversations in comfort over hot cups of tea.