White Rose

I was missing my home already. With my head pressed against the car window, watching the rain drizzle down blocking my view of the small city, my Dad, Kyle looked from the front of the car towards me.
"Enjoying the rain?" he said in his gruff voice.
"Um," I hesitated to answer, thouroughly thinking the question through in my hazy mind. "I don't really like the rain."
He noted my response with a grunt and turned back to the wheel.

This was Hoquiam, Washington. Poulation, 9097. Listed as one of America's wettest cities. I was not gonna like the weather here.
Kyle pulled in by a small white, painted wooden cottage. He helped me shift my bags from the car but by the time I got inside, my hair was drenched. Kyle handed me a towel which was casually hung on a radiator by the door. He showed me upstairs.
"Um... this is your room," he said quietly guesturing to a white door, the first one along the upstairs corridor. He hauled up my luggage and stuffed everthing through the door. "I um repainted it. You like blue right?"
"Yeah, blue's cool," I answered looking around. There was a full length mirror in one corner, a small wardrobe and a single bed covered in a lot of thick quilts and duvets. "Uh do I really need so many quilts?" I asked.
"You're not in Arizona anymore Ash," he said with a tight grimace on his face. The he left the room.
He was right. Than night was the coldest night of my life.