Silence. That's what Mary likes about camping in the Mountains. It's early fall - too soon for deer and elk hunting, too late for summer travelers. She and Johnny have headed to the mountains for a last minute get away before his next job starts.
It's cold, though, at this time of year and they're almost at tree line. Mary snuggles back into her heavy sleeping bag trying to warm up either the flannel of her pajamas or the corners of the sleeping bag.
She glances in the direction of Johnny - snoring gently across the pop-up camper. It's dark and she can't see him but she imagines his warmth. He's on the opposite side of the camper because it's just the two of them - their girls, now adults, too busy with their lives to tear themselves away for a week with their parents.
Mary moves her wool covered feet. Her toes are numb. She listens to Johnny hrrremmmm, yrrremmmmm, ...... hrrrremmmm, yrreeeemmmmmm. His rhythmic breathing calls to her with a promise of warmth.
She climbs out of the sleeping bag taking care not to make too much noise. The table on her right brushes against her thigh as she feels her way across the camper. She climbs up on Johnny's bed and wedges herself up against him. Johnny is a big man - 6foot 3 and the size of a lumberjack north woods stories are written about. He always sleeps at a angle in the campers bed.
As Mary savors his warmth he moves in his sleep giving her room. Mary, while a neat five feet, is nearly as round as she is tall. She pulls Johnny's quilts over her and she melts into sleep.