Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The freshly fallen snow gave way under my feet. My new, bright red boots tackled the snow almost as effectively as a plow. The only sounds were the monotone of my steps and my breathing. The winter air was crisp and there was ice along the roads.

Crunch.

Oh, great. Now my sweater was starting to move around. Off came the book bag. Off came the jacket, scarf, and third layer. Amidst the random pieces of clothing on the ground, I tried to adjust my too-large sweater, which had twisted so that the front was in the back and the back was making its way to the front. I finally got everything back on the right way and hoped to regain the warmth lost in the process.

Realizing I was only halfway home, I took out my trusty MP3 player to listen to my temporary friends: Blue October, Coldplay, and Maroon 5. When I looked up again I spotted a group of kids staring at a boy who was lying on his back on the sidewalk.

Oh, geez, I have to pass these people. I bet they pushed that kid down. If I walk fast enough, maybe they won’t bother me, I thought.

As I got closer, the group laughed as the boy picked himself up, and they ran across the street. The kid turned back to me and shouted, “Oh! Be careful there – it’s ice!”

In the short time it took me to hear and process what he had said, I had already trekked past the point of doom. I had stepped down onto what could have been an ice rink.

I stumbled idiotically for my balance, clinging to nearby bushes. But despite my desperate attempt to stay upright, I began falling. At first it was only a lean backward, but the weight of my book bag assured my lack of recovery.

I looked left and right to see if anyone was around. I knew how funny I looked and I could even picture the weird face I had made as I hit. I would have laughed at myself if it hadn’t hurt so much. So I picked myself up, re-adjusted things, and tried to hide the pain in my butt as I walked on.