The window was frosty from the chill outside. Condensation obscured part of the view of the winter world. Soft blue curtains fluttered as the furnace kicked on to heat the small house. Everything was silent. The unbroken blanket of snow outside coated the road. Cars were just ambiguous bumps.The rising sun made the snow sparkle like broken glass. It painted white rooftops into glittering gold. The sunlight looked warm, but the temperature outside was well below freezing.

The coffee maker hissed as it brewed. The pungent aroma filled the house. Warm cherry wood lined the stairs. Plush carpets adorned the floor. The overstuffed couch was full of blankets, with just a small section open for sitting. A half read book sat on the end table waiting to be picked up again. The television remained off to keep the integrity of the silent morning. Sunlight was making its way across the room slanting through the blinds. The cat moved along with the watery warmth, avoiding shoes, and scarves, and socks.

When night fell the road had been turned to slush and most of the cars had been cleared off and moved to new locations on the street. Sidewalks had been cleared and the pristine morning was no where to be found. Slush capped mountains lined the streets and walkways. Dirt was crusted over the tops and up the sides where people had shoveled snow up to make way for people to walk. There was an eerie light from the moon reflecting off the snow, it wasn’t as dark. Streetlights painted the piles of snow sickly yellow. The house was still warm, there was no more condensation on the windows. Wet puddles collected in the entry from snow caked shoes. The television rumbled in the background. The soft tinkling of new snow falling was almost drowned out. The cat was sleeping comfortably on the top of the couch.


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Writing short stories and flash pieces.

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