The Ice Storm
It didn’t feel that cold. I mean it was clearly below freezing; my breath was misting and the walkway was glazed in uneven ice, but what I’m trying to say is it looked even colder than it felt. It was unusually quiet; I guess not many people had ventured out yet. The birch tree across the way had turned to glass and was drooping towards the pavement under its new weight; it’s every limb a tube of ice. Nearby a glass skirt of icicle fronds hung from the bumper of my car. My shoes slithered as I moved towards the car, the icy surface feeling like a tray of marbles beneath me. Mercifully, the car unlocked at the press of the key fob. Setting my feet as best I could I pulled on the driver's door, it opened with a loud crack. Inside the car it was darker than usual. The heavy icing gave the appearance of frosted glass making it feel like a surreal shower cubicle. I started the engine and waited for the car to start warming up. Sitting in the frosted cocoon just waiting was pretty dull. ...