Cold

Tennessee is beautiful. That’s all I could think when I stepped out onto the balcony. And oh, it was raining, with a cold that not only went straight to your bones but stole them as well. I thought about going back in, if not just to get a scarf or something to kill the cold. But it was just so suffocating in there; my entire life hanging on one single decision. One I wasn’t ready to make.

I stuck myself out over the balcony rail, hoping to catch some stray drops in my shivering hand. But the condo’s overhang came down too far, and my arm wasn’t long enough. So I contented myself with just listening and trying to ignore the fact that I could hardly feel my fingers anymore.

So I stood there, breathing slowly in and out so I could see my breath. A friend once said It’s like smoking, without the horrible repercussions of lung cancer. The air was cleaner than I’d tasted in years.

I could live here, I thought. Get a house in the mountains with horses and wake up every morning to those beautiful hills rolling into the clouds and the mist rising from the green like that dream I had when I was five and didn’t know any better.

I choked on smoke, staggering backwards. My eyes found somebody’s brown hair occupying the balcony below. She was strung out over a blue plastic lawn chair, dragging a cigarette to her chapped lips in-between death rattling hacks and coughs with so much smoke rising she must have lit three at once.

I wanted to scream at her, Why are you ruining my perfect morning with your choking on a stupid fag that’ll probably kill you in five years anyway!? Give me my damn moment!

The rain turned to snow.