Snow on the lake

It’s not really the weather for it but you go out anyway.

You exhale icy breath which whispers its way upwards and plants itself in a frosty layer on your eyebrows. Your feet slide on a slithering sheet of snow. Though you’re sorely tempted you think twice, don’t go out any further. Not today.

Your fingers are freezing in woollen mittens as you pull out your phone. You take the shot, unable to see through the flakes to know whether you’ve lined it up well or not. The snow’s coming down thicker, melting on your eyeballs, stinging on your face. You gaze out to the horizon for a moment, unsure if you can spot something – some sign of life out there on the lake.

You turn and shuffle slowly back to the car, wondering if walking like a penguin will help. Wondering how penguins would walk if they were human, but trying to be a human penguin only makes you slide all the more.

Back inside the car you start the engine, let your hands and feet warm up, let the frost melt from your eyebrows. Pull out the phone, and smile.

The engine purrs, the tyres hiss against the silence of the snow as you drive away to the warm place you call home.

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