The snow fell easily, reflected in the headlights against the darkness of the highway. The large, flat flakes seemed almost make-believe to Debra, like Lux detergent floating down from the sky, the way they made it snow on TV. She trusted Stan to take the curves slowly, as unhurried as the snow, even though they’d left Indianapolis late, after Stan’s Friday stats class. It would be hours before they’d arrive at the cabin.