Steady Ground | ✔

2 | This isn't the cold front?

Atlas was surprised to find out that Wasilla, Alaska, only had a little bit of snow. His manager, Aronne, had told him that snow started waning in late March and early April. Even still, the temperature was low enough to turn his nose red when he stepped outside of the airport.

Thankfully, his coworker had lent him one of her jackets before they took off. It was a little tight around the shoulders and stomach, but it would do and he clung to it for every ounce of warmth he could.

The app on his phone said it was twenty eight degrees Fahrenheit out.

Why did Aronne choose Alaska?

He contemplated that on the way to the house they were renting for their three weeks of work "vacation."

Alaska was very different than what he would have thought. It still had that small town feel that he got when he watched TV, even as they left the airport in a rented car, but when he looked around he saw some small shops and even a highway.

He sighed eternally when he noticed a small KFC. Thank God.

"Do you think it'll warm up any?" Atlas asked into the quiet space of the SUV. There were three of them in it, and then the rest of his coworkers took a van to camp out in at the work site, eager to scout it out before dark.

He certainly did not have their enthusiasm for the work, but he was just a technician tagging along, not one of the passionate scientists determined to win a Nobel prize for being the first to successfully stop an earthquake in its tracks. All he was to do was make sure the coordinates he drew from the international earthquake risk database aligned with their work site.

"Don't mean to be a downer, but I think a cold front is supposed to come in," Aronne said from the passenger seat. Ashe, the woman who had lent him the winter jacket, had gleefully taken the wheel when their manager said he was tired earlier, content to use driving toward the white capped mountains as an excuse to not participate in their small talk. She had never been one to talk much. She was a listener, by and far, and Atlas wondered sometimes what went through her mind.

He tried not to chuckle when he imagined her talking trash about them behind their backs. "This isn't the cold front?" he asked. The slight amusement wasn't enough to keep the annoyance from creeping in. Once more he couldn't help but think, Why Alaska?

"Oh nope, and a pile of snow's soon to follow."

"It's spring," he groaned.

Aronne guffawed. "Snow doesn't care what season it is in the north!" He turned slightly in his seat to get a better look at Atlas. "It'll be gorgeous, though, when the ground has a fresh blanket down and the boreal forest droops with snow and icicles. You know, I used to live out here, years ago. Out on the Aleutians. It's actually where I met my wife. Absolutely gorgeous being surrounded by the ocean. I think once you get used to the cold in a couple of days, you'll find some joy here too."

So that's why Atlas was in Alaska. His manager was sentimental and apathetic. Maybe Atlas was being a little rude there, but he couldn't help but cross his arms, sinking deeper into the coat. One just didn't get used to the cold in a couple days. He was ready for summer!

How cruel was it for the spring weather to warm the mountains up back in Asheville only for his manager to laugh and dump him in the north of the north, in the state no one ever thought about down south.

He took his phone out, snapping a picture of the mountains in the far distance. He texted it to Leia.

Jealous yet? he captioned it.