Frost Nipping

[kcirex]

The slamming of the bulky, wooden door behind me echoed into the cold distance. I hesitated for a moment and pondered whether the door was slammed by another being, but before I could finish my thought a gust of biting January wind pierced my face. I trudged as usual through the heaps of uneven snow, but today was different. It was colder than I was accustomed to. Pulling my white cotton scarf tighter didn't do much to warm me, and I scurried the rest of the way to school. The mounded snow made things difficult, as they were no doubt caused by the previous night's whirling maelstroms. I arrived just in time to thaw out, and gather the necessary books for class. Not much happened that day. Mrs. Barshefsky wasn't in school, so being there was practically useless. By day's end, I had accomplished nothing, learned nothing - the usual. Since weather reports indicated rising mid-day temperatures, I thought I'd take a different route home. I departed school on the South side. This route differed greatly from my usual Northern path. The trees were not nearly as abundant, and it had a particular mysteriousness, which often deterred me from taking it. After approximately 30 minutes, or maybe it was 10 minutes, of wading through the increasingly slushy snow, I came to a tree. At first glance it seemed like an ordinary tree, but upon closer inspection I noticed the snow had left distinct patterns on it. The melting icicles dropped their liquid remains to the ground. It was as if they were crying to me, and their watery droplets were tears. I felt like wiping them with my white scarf, but a nippy gust of wind signaling the evening's arrival broke my trance, and besides, I didn't want my scarf wet. As I reached my house I carefully pushed open the wooden door, making sure not to smash the inner-wall with it and cause a disturbance. Dinner was okay. The soup warmed my core, and I finished doing chores so that I could start my homework. I guess my work was so boring that I must have fallen asleep, because the next sound I heard was my 6 am alarm ringing my ear-drums chaotically. My curiosity gravitated me to the South path once again. Half the distance there I realized my scarf was missing. I did not recall putting it on before leaving the house, but I distinctly remember bringing it home the previous night. As I approached the tree that had troubled me so much the day before, I noticed it was slightly different. Hanging on the branch facing the North was my white scarf, soaking up all the icicle's tears.

This improvisational story was written because I was extremely warm.