The wrinkles in the ancient widow's face dug deeper as she shifted her glazed eyes slowly about the kitchen. Her rancid brown box-dress had coffee stains from sidewalk cafes the world over, and the ragged edges of her fingers had touched the lips of many a fair prince. But now she sat slumped up against the back of the chair, feeling the veins in her legs work so hard to bring the used blood back up from her warped toes.

The refrigerator stood in its corner, quietly purring as it had been for the past several years, quietly humming to itself some inaudible tone of pastries and chocolate milk and raspberries and frozen waffles. The grey of its door once shone the brighteest milk-white and its handle once smiled back at beaming children. But the refrigerator hadn't noticed the change , this corner, with its colony of daddy long-legs and dust balls the size of tangerines, was home.

The widow glanced slightly at the refrigerator, then took a longer, more pensive look. She shifted forward a little in her slump, so now she could almost reach the freezer door. The refrigerator at first paid no attention to this quiet movement; but when it sensed that its facilities were about to come under inspection, all at once it hopped forward a step to help the widow.

With shaking fingers she touched the corroded metal, able to touch it, but not feel a thing. But able to pthe handle knew that this was more than a casual caress. Yes, this freezer compartment was no naive ice box. The handle moved quickly but unnoticeably into the woman's misshapen hand.

She let out a slight grunt at the effort of opening the door, and sighed hoarsely when she saw what was within. With trembling hands and a newly renewed spirit, she withdrew the ice cube tray and lifted it to her nose and saw the little bubbles frozen in time and place and she inhaled deeply and she knew it was good ice.

And then her cheeks bunched up in a smile. n