Powder Cake

The next morning the powder had reached almost to the top of the barrier on my balcony. I shivered and pulled the blankets over my head, hoping time would stop, the alarm wouldn’t ring and I could stay in bed until it was warm again.

Like death and taxes, so came that obnoxious ringing sounds. Bursting through the fortress of fabric, duck down and cotton that I had built up around my ears. I popped my head out and silenced the alarm.

I’ve always been one of those people that needs plenty of sunlight. I can’t function well in the dark. So naturally the first thing I do when I wake up every morning is open the blinds and look out at the sky. But today there was no sky to find. There was no sun. There was only a mass of powdery white snow that stretched on forever. It had snowed all night long, and now I realized that the snow really had reached the top of my balcony… on the 8th floor of my building.

I shoved my boots and jacket on over my pajamas and went outside to have a look. When I strained my sight I could see the shapes of other buildings, freshly pressed in white powder. A stranger walked by wearing snow shoes while carrying a coffee mug and chattering into his phone. A little snow wasn’t about to bring the city to a halt.

I shrugged and crawled back into bed. I knew it would all be melted by tomorrow. At the very least the snow plow would figure out how to dig through it. But today, just for today, I could go back to bed.


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