The heavy door blew-in. A fury of snow roiled with Olafur inside. He forced shut the door, and the wind howled its frustration.
“Come in neighbour,” said Jon, pouring a steaming cup of coffee. He waited while Olafur shucked off his greatcoat and cut the rime from his beard with a knife. Then he asked. “What in Odin’s name possessed you to cross the glacier in such a storm?”
Olafur warmed his hands around the cup, eyes rolling. “She’s back. She’s behind me.”
Jon turned to the opaqued window, where Olafur’s stare rested. Against the whiteness, a diffuse light mounted.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here