"Bloody freezin' hell," I muttered, grabbing a broom from beside the door. Bristles swished angrily against polished wood as I hurriedly chased an encroaching snow drift back out of the foyer. Stray flakes clung to my slippers, half-melted and glistening in the pale moonlight. I'd have found it beautiful, if not for the bitter cold and the equally bitter thought spinning through my mind.
"Knew I should never have taught that stupid owl to turn knobs..." With a frustrated sigh, I slammed the door shut and trudged back to bed, wondering if it would be worth the effort to train my feathered companion to remember to shut doors after opening them.
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