The winter of ’78 had been brutal. Temperatures were often below freezing with massive snow accumulation. Jenny and Aaron had been fighting since Christmas. In January, she’d threatened to leave him after a particularly nasty spat. Aaron had grabbed his coat and yelled at her not to bother, he was leaving. She knew he was bluffing. Deep down they still loved each other very much. He had just needed some space to cool off. She’d dried her tears and gone to bed.
She was surprised to wake alone the next morning but assumed he’d spent the night with his friend Kyle who always managed to talk Aaron down when things got bad.
When her husband hadn’t returned by that evening, she’d called Kyle only to learn Aaron had never arrived. After a week, she’d become convinced there had been another woman. By late March, she’d accepted that it was over and he’d moved on.
She wasn’t expecting the police at her door. When they informed her that Aaron’s body had been found frozen to death in his car which had just been uncovered by the melting snow, she’d fallen to her knees and wept. The winter of ’78 was the worst ever.
Word Count: 200
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided.]