Is my name Murphy she wondered. Three years she’d saved up, and now on her first day’s skiing some idiot knocks her down. She sat in the lodge with crackling fire, reading a book, while fat white flakes dripped misery.
“This seat taken?” asked the stranger. He brushed stray crumbs from their hiding place on the cushion’s glowing velvet and asked what she was reading.
“Ah… the foot.” He smiled. “I’m only here for the beer.” His arm was in a sling, so he helped her walk while she helped him drink and together they fell in love.