Snowstorm
i.
It’s 32° indoors and my breath is a cloud of smoke wafting out of the chimney. We are cold and uncomfortable and the elderly could freeze to death but there’s no work to do today. Everyone drops everything and puts on three pairs of socks.
ii.
It’s the only business in the neighborhood with power, a red-roofed gas station with no gas. We stand in line for an hour waiting to buy a cup of coffee. Hold the paper cups to our heartbeats like the hand of a lover.
iii.
Nobody goes to the playground during a winter storm. But then again there’s the empty swing-set and the midday sun and the crisp, diamond stillness. There’s wind that sounds like ocean and you can’t feel your ears. The world doesn’t stop for a faulty power grid, but doesn’t it, after all?
iv.
We use the gas stove to make spaghetti, sit around the table like a little family. Eat by candlelight and play a card game, phones all but dead. The man who never speaks about his feelings tells us he’s insecure. We are criss-crossed on the floor, shivering and alive.
Maddy Sneep‘s work can be found in Hearth and Coffin, Hot Pot Magazine, Stone of Madness, and elsewhere. She also peddles her wares on her Etsy shop, SNEEPSTUDIOS. She lives in Austin, TX with her two cats who inspire her to work less and lounge more.