The taxi was stuck, so they bundled out with clown-suited babe underarm. The bobble-hat bulged beneath red hood and he felt like a doll would, rigidly stiff in his Mom’s arms. She wobbled while Dad paid what they owed.
“Sure you’re okay?”
“It’s not far.” They strode over unseasonal snow. Then she slipped towards the black-iced ditch and baby slid under her arms; she saw his small red kayak floating away and screamed for help.
With black coat billowing her husband leapt to their aid. Then, “Sure you’ll be okay?” the taxi-driver asked. She answered no, climbing safely back inside.