Everywhere is a blanket of pure white. The pleasant and immense quiet. The whole world is sleeping as the tiny flakes patter on your shoulder.
The streets are still unplowed. No choice but to drive on as the tires slip over the surface like a finger on velvet. It’s a cautious creep into the night that crawls further from the warmth of bed. Hands clutch the steering wheel. Hot tea sits neglected. Can’t make the light, can’t stop in time as the car drifts through an intersection in the early morning hours. Alone skirting the main thoroughfares. The beacon of bad, ignorant, and impatient drivers.
Town is left behind as the journey ventures into the dark. A real darkness that even the whiteness of the snow can’t fight. There are no lanes. Just avoiding the ditch matters. It’s a long, cold walk to anywhere. A flinch, a startle, a giant black beast moving in the distance. A train crossing the bridge. Silence save the squeak of the windshield wipers.
Familiar lights in the distance. The top of the building hidden in a snowy haze. A brightly lit parking lot and a stretch of respite. A few hours of weak sun, perhaps the snow will stop. It will be dark before the return journey begins.