The General Store
Glen rode his snowmobile through the snowdrifts as the bitter cold battered his jacket and goggles. It threatened to steal his breath, even with the protective layers covering his face. He pulled up to the general store, which also served as a bar, restaurant, and gas station, and killed the engine.
He saw three more snowmobiles sitting outside and felt a surge of excitement as he climbed off and walked to the building. His legs were stiff from the two hour trip from his cabin, and his back wasn’t in great shape either. He opened the door, ducked inside, and shut it behind him quickly.
“It’s about time you came around, Glen!” Doug, the owner yelled as Glen’s eyes began adjusting to the dimmer light. “I was about to ask Dave if he’d go up and check on you!”
“You know damn well that I don’t need any help.” Glen retorted with a smile as he saw Dave Philips, Helen Guthrie, and Frank Harris sitting at the bar. He pulled off his jacket and hung it by the door before approaching the rest of them. “I see that the weather kept the rest of you locked up for the last few weeks too.”
“This winter seems rougher than I remember…” Frank grumbled.
“We were due for a rough winter,” Helen said, responding to her husband. “We’ve lucked out the last few years. Thankfully, we got the break in the weather to make it down here.”
Dave mumbled an agreement as he took a long haul off his mug of beer. He winced as he set it down on the bar.
“Not liking this batch, Dave?” Glen asked as he sat at the bar and was presented with another mug. “Can’t be as bad as the last batch of twenty-twelve.”
Glen took a drink and coughed.
“It’s been a rough year.” Doug chuckled as he swirled his own mug, “It’s not the best tasting brew I’ve made, but it’ll get you drunk.”