“Hmm,” she thought, “That seems vaguely familiar.” Pushing the blurry memory aside she decided to think about her response on the way to work to make the most of her 60 seconds.

As she drove to the office through the softly falling snow she passed by newly constructed snowmen in front yards, their decorations now sporting a soft camouflage. A red hat and scarf keyed a wonderful and almost forgotten memory, transporting her to a magical time when she was 6 years old and sitting in her dad’s office. His pipe–never smoked in the other parts of their home–smelled wonderful. Curled up on the leather couch and wrapped in a family quilt, she sipped hot cocoa through a layer of mini marshmallows. The frosted windows hindered the view of the field that led to the woods and the mountains blocked the morning sun but you could still make out the snowman they had made together standing guard over an empty white expanse, the contrasting red hat and scarf giving its position away. She quietly watched her dad meticulously draw what was to be a someone’s house. As he pored over each line with the pipe clenched in his teeth, he noticed Robin’s stare. His huge smile–with his eyes, too–flooded her with love. He winked and then returned to his work, the smile still glowing on his face.

Robin parked in the garage, took the elevator up to her office where she started the coffee and booted up her computer. While she waited she looked out the ninth floor window at the hustle and bustle below. An ambulance with its screaming siren sped by and momentarily drowned out the background that haunted her most of day. She turned around and the picture of her dad caught her eye. His eyes told her everything–again.

She knew exactly what she wanted to use her one minute to say and quickly pulled up the site. And then she was distracted for just a moment. Something was different.

“What a brief bit of nice day set in an office.”
“Ha!” she thought. “It doesn’t matter.”