I step outside into the icy cold. My breath fogs in front of me, and I smile. A memory drifts on the still night air, a memory of eighth grade, a time before I knew of my allergy, and "the only good thing about smoking". I let the memory float to me, and then past, choosing instead to look up at the night sky.
It it cloudless, save for the steam coming out of the paper mill to the north, so similar to my own foggy breath, but so much bigger. A little to the south, I spy Abby's buddy, Orion, and above me, I think I see the Big Dipper. I grin, my knowledge of astronomy so very limited.
I should have been home hours ago, but my Big started watching Firefly, and I couldn't exactly walk away. It's midnight, and I'm tired, and I still have to shower; the night is cold and empty, but I am fine walking this way by myself.
I take a deep breath to revel in the night; the air is icy, and it pierces my lungs. My body is wracked by coughs from my brand of the Con Death Plague, and I remember that I should really be wearing a hat, a scarf, and probably a thicker coat. I couldn't be bothered, though, to find them on my way out the door to my social group meeting.
I am almost at the door to my dorm now; I tread a longer path than usual, to avoid the snow and keep my shoes from getting wet (they're canvas, and they take a long time to dry). I do not want to take my hands from my pockets to open the door; I'm not wearing any gloves, and my hands chap easily when it's this cold out. I have to do, though, because it's midnight, and not many people will be around to let me in. I pull out my ID and swipe it through the lock, yanking the door open before it has a chance to be an ass and close on me.
Inside now, I am almost immediately warmer. I trudge up the fourty steps to my room, and practically fall through the door. I wave at my roommate. She grins back. My coat comes off and I am cold again. I should shower and go to sleep. I have class and work tomorrow and I'm tired and sick. But I haven't been writing, and I feel the need to do. So I sit down, open my browser, and, still chilly, start to type.
