Killer Cold

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It is freezing outside today. Literally, if I went out of my car right now, I would become a human popsicle in a matter of seven seconds.

This is why I have my scarf and hat, leaving just enough room for my eyes to peek out in between them. I have my big fluffy coat over two smaller jackets, plus my wool sweater underneath. My mittens are triple layered and my ear muffs fit cozily over my fur hat. I completely agree with the statement, “You can never have too many scarfs” because I have on five.

I have always hated the cold. I hate getting those chills throughout your whole body or when you step outside and you lose your breath because you can’t breathe the frozen air. I hate shaking uncontrollably because of the goose bumps that you can’t stop, or the gasp you let out when the cold hits you. Mainly, I hate everything about the cold.

I look out my car window and I see these adorable kids playing outside as the snowflakes come floating down. I can’t help wondering how their little bodies don’t just shut down from the cold. I watch them roll up their little snowballs with the new fallen snow, and I smile to myself.

When I turn back to the road, I realize I totally just flew past the stop sign at the intersection a few yards back. I freeze. My heart pounds and it shakes me. I could have died. What if a car was going across the road?

I keep driving and I don’t turn back. I’m breathing heavy, my mind at a blank now. Somehow, I make it to the coffee shop. I park the car in the parking lot and I let the heat from the vent hit me for a while. I take my hat off, run my fingers through my hair, and close my eyes.

Gosh, what a morning.
I’m not ready to face the cold. Not yet.
But I brave up, whip open my car door, and sprint to the entrance of the shop. The cold wind slaps against my body. Once inside, the warmth and aroma of coffee and cinnamon welcome me.
I love this little coffee shop. I’m here almost every morning in the winter time. It looks like a cute log cabin. When you walk in, you see a cozy fireplace burning with wooden tables and chairs scattered about. Rugs are spread around the hardwood floors, and stone pillars with T.V’s give it a different look. It’s always warm here, plus all the workers know me by name.
“The usual, Carrie?” asks Terra behind the counter.
“You know me,” I reply with a wink.
She laughs, “Hey, did you hear about the accident this morning?”
“No, I didn’t,” I say uninterested.
“Oh, well it looked pretty bad,” she hands me my french vanilla espresso with a smile, “Here, this will keep you warm.”
“Thanks,” I smile back.
I hand her the money and sit down at one of the wooden tables. I take a sip of my espresso and watch the news on T.V in front of me.
I saw an overturned car that looked more like a crushed can. The car’s side was pushed against a telephone pole.
That could have been me, I think to myself, remembering how I ran that stop sign this morning.
The screen switches to a pretty blonde girl at the scene of the accident.
“You just saw live footage of an accident that happened earlier this morning, at the intersection of 95th street and 24th avenue…”
Wait, I freeze, that’s the same intersection I was at.
“…according to witnesses, Jane Standford was driving up to the intersection when someone ran the stop sign,”
No.
“Standford slammed on the brakes but spiraled out of control and flipped into a telephone pole. She died instantly. Jane was driving home to her three kids, only a few yards away.”
The kids with the snowballs.
The rest of the newscast faded away. I felt chills running through my veins. I got goose bumps and my whole body shook. I gasp, but my breath is taken away.
I have never felt so cold.





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