Ships Passing - fridayflash

Not much to say about this one. I felt really empowered by all the positive comments on last week's #fridayflash and thus I'm here again laying down another one. I was hoping for something a little less moody, but a foggy day and a Zoe Keating song determined what I was writing this week. Hope you enjoy, and see you all next week!

--------------------


He sat parked in his car along one side of the street. It was dark, the empty isolated kind of dark where dawn is only a few hours off but still being kept at bay. Not that you could tell. There were only the sparse glow of street lights and an all-encompassing fog that had settled over the city that night.

He was buzzed but not drunk. A gathering with old friends as he was passing through was enough to get him wistful and reflective. But they all had jobs or kids or both now and they weren't open to staying out until dawn talking like they had been back in the day. Hell, he wasn't sure he was open to that idea anymore, either. So instead he came here, the only other place in the whole city he could think of.

At this time of night, the street was the only thing in the universe. The well-worn pavement was the only thing holding him up from a fall into oblivion. The fog didn't cut off his universe, it seemed to define it, a world smaller than a block in size, lit from the faint, hazy suns of the street lamps.

He knew that eventually the real sun would come and the universe would expand again. He knew that on either side of this single street were simple two story houses like the kind found in any third year old suburbia in this part of the country. He knew each house like he knew his teachers growing up. He might still be able to name half the neighbors. This wasn't a place people typically moved out from.

Except him, of course.

His head lolled forward and he let out a long sigh. He wasn't sure why he came here. There was nothing but memories, some of them good to be sure but all of them painful. After going so long and so far to get away from this place, here he was again--sitting in a car on this street wishing that life could be .... different.

But it wasn't. Instead it was the same old street with the same old lights and the same old fog that could come down this time of year and really mess with a person. He had always loved this fog in the days of his youth. It was a fog of magic and concealment. A fog that asked for people to come together as close as they could to stave off the isolation.

He sat and stared out at the street as his head slowly cleared. The thoughts in his mind were just a vicious circle of memories and futile ruminations on why life was the way life was. He wished one of his old friends had come along. But he wasn't sure that the conversation they would have had would have been any more fulfilling. It was a lost cause all around. You couldn't go home again.

He started up his car, sitting and waiting and trying to savor the moment one last time. It was late and he was tired now, but who knew when he'd be back through here? As he took it in, tried to get a feel for this one small, insignificant place that meant so much, he noticed a light in the distance. It wasn't the halo of a lamp, but a single tongue of flame off in the darkness, followed by a small glowing dot. Someone was out here, smoking.

He put the car in gear and slowly began to roll forward. As his headlights swept over the fog, he saw that the ember belonged to a person sitting in one of the parked cars on the opposite side of the street. That gave him pause. His reverie had been intruded on by this stranger sitting in their own vehicle thinking thoughts that were probably vastly different than his own. The whole venture out here suddenly felt cheap and self-indulgent.

Still, he didn't want to look like some sort of thief scoping out the neighborhood. Whoever it was had been there before he got there. He suddenly felt like he owed them some sort of explanation. So he slowed as he neared the car, pulling up next to the open window. The smoke drifting out the window was quickly swallowed up by the greedy fog, but it made him feel like this person was a part of the atmosphere, cutting everything off from the reality he remembered and making this night something other.

Their facing windows were open, and he waved as casually as he could as he got close. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I was just driving through. I used to live here. Was in town, figured I'd stop and look at the old neighborhood, get a feel for it again."

The figure leaned forward, a female shape. As she came closer to the window and into the light, he recognized her. For a moment, he almost cried out in surprise. But he just remained rigid as she blew up another thin stream of smoke. "Not much to see on a night like this."

She was looking at him, but she didn't seem to recognize him. It took him a second, but then he remembered how different he looked from back in the day, how much he had changed in the twenty years since he had been here. She hadn't changed, though. Older, a bit more careworn, but still the same.

"Yeah ..." he said slowly. He wasn't going to announce himself if she didn't realize who it was. He hadn't spoken to her in two decades and he wasn't even sure where he'd begin if he had to. Instead, she was just a woman on the street where he used to live. "Well, it's still the same. I remember nights like this. A kid could get into a lot of trouble on a night like this."

She smiled, a thin smile that felt as tired and melancholy as he had felt sitting here. What was she doing here? The same thing he was? He had no idea what she was doing anymore. Maybe she lived here. Maybe she was just passing through like he was. His imagination reeled with the possibilities.

"Yeah, one certainly could," she said. "Still, it's not the same. Back then, it felt so full of possibilities. Now it's just a single tiny street in a city full of them. In a country full of cities. Nothing special."

"I tend to think of it the other way around," he answered her without thinking. "Back then, I was always looking for something more. Something bigger and better. This place was just a stepping stone to adventures. But just seeing the road, as beat up and worn down as it is, and knowing that it's this place above all places ... it's special to me. There's nowhere else I could go to relive the memories I have here."

"You must have some good memories, to be here now," she answered him casually. She didn't seem that interested, just making conversation.

"Some, sure," he answered. "Not all. But even so, I couldn't just let them go. No matter how hard I try or how far I go, they're still with me. And when I was in town, I came here as sure as birds fly south. I figure it's just ... fate."

"Maybe so," she answered, taking another long drag of her cigarette and neatly flicking ash out the window. "I hope you enjoyed coming back, if only for a little while."

"It's been something else," he answered truthfully. "But I certainly don't regret it." He looked at the clock, realizing he had a flight out in only four hours. He could sleep on the plane, but he had to get ready. "You have a good night. And don't be too hard on this whole place. In the morning, it'll go about its business with a bunch of people living their lives, and none of this memory will exist anymore. It'll burn away with the fog. Might as well enjoy it now."

She nodded, though this time she didn't smile. "Have a good night. Drive safe. It's dangerous out there."

"You too," he said, as he rolled up his window to keep out the chill and began to pull away. The streetlights loomed up out of the darkness, one after another, keeping this contained universe the same size and shape even as he moved inside of it. But the car and its occupant disappeared behind him into the darkness, little more than a memory.

Reflect - fridayflash

At the urging of one Elizabeth Ditty, I decided to participate in this week's #fridayflash. I'm suffering under the worst ear infection ever, so I'm not really in any condition to elaborate on anything. But I hope you enjoy the story, at least.

-----

REFLECT

He stood at the window and peered out into the twinkling sea of lights in the city. His apartment was high above the rest of the world, a luxurious penthouse far above the squallor of the city. But tonight he stared out longingly through the huge windows, peering through the reflection of his own face distorted by the darkened glass.

He stepped back from the brink of the city unfolding below and looked at himself in the glass. He was naked from the waist up, the dark room warm in the summer heat.

On the other side of the window was his reflection, pale and slender. He looked down at himself. His skin nearly glowed in the darkness. His chest was narrow and flat, a faint dusting of feeble hair across the middle of it. He frowned, rubbing his hand across it. A hundred memories of being mocked for his bird-chested figure crossed his face, his lips pulling tight and his eyes narrowing. It wasn't an unfair comparison.

He looked up at the reflection in the mirror, reaching up with his free hand and brushing a wild strand of hair from his eyes. The reflection before him mimicked the action, but instead of a wispy lock of hair it pulled back a long, straight length.

The figure on the other side of the window was equally slender and equally pale, but it wasn't nearly as emaciated or weak. The twig-like torso was expanded into subtle curves. The hollow chest had filled out with two small but graceful looking breasts. The detestable tuft of hair was gone.

He looked into the face in the reflection, afraid to see his hollowed cheeks. But instead there was a rounded face that was beautiful and feminine and utterly alien. Yet when he looked into the eyes, the eyes that looked back were his own.

His hand reached up and touched the glass, and the woman on the other side reached up and touched the glass from the other side. Her fingers were slender and artful, beautiful in comparison to his own hand, with hairy, over sized knuckles.

He pressed harder against the glass, trying to reach the figure on the other side. The reflection seemed to strain to reach out to him, too, muscles in her arm flexing. He stared into the eyes of the other person, seeing her yearning to come across just as strong as his yearning to pull her through the window and into the reality of the room.

He sighed and relaxed his hand, realizing that nothing would get the reflection to come through the other side. She was forever opposite him, floating like an angel above the myriad lights of the city. And there she would remain for as long as he stood there staring out into the darkness, yearning for the impossible.

His other hand came up and pressed the barrel of the gun in his hand against his temple. On the other side, the reflection did the same thing, her slender feminine arm rising up against her head. The reflection of the gun was dark, though. So dark that he couldn't even see it against the night sky.

"I'll never see you again, but ... maybe that's for the best," he said, pressing the muzzle tightly against his temple. He closed his eyes, hoping that the reflection would continue to mimic him. He didn't want her to see this. She was too perfect to be sullied by the gross reality of his existence. His finger tightened on the trigger.

The noise of the gunshot was loud, but brief. This was a luxurious apartment, and noise was swallowed up quickly. There was only the darkness, and a body slumped against the ground, hand still outstretched towards the window, grasping in vain.

There was silence that settled in the apartment. The city continued to shine below, oblivious. But in that silence, with no eyes watching, two slender feet stepped between the splayed legs of the man lying there on the carpet, a hole in his head and a blood stain like an oil spill on the hardwood floor.

The female figure stood there, arms crossed over her bare chest, looking down at the man lying on the floor. She stared at him as though he was possibly familiar, but then shook her head as if clearing away the last remnants of a bad dream.

On a nearby chair was a dress shirt that she pulled on and buttoned up. She approached the window, stepping over the body, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The reflection was of a man, thin and sickly and disgusting looking. But it didn't seem to bother her as she adjusted the shirt in the mirror, seemingly ignorant of the aberrant reflection staring back at her.

The shirt adjusted so that it didn't look too out of place, the woman turned and walked out of the apartment. At the window, the reflection of the man remained. He stared at the woman living where he had once lived, beginning where he had ended. He pressed his hand to the glass. There was just him and the body lying on the other side inside the apartment.

Slowly, the man faded from the window. The body remained, backlit by the hustle and bustle of the city, but it was alone.

Movie Rundown - This Past Weekend

Here you go, part two of the movie extravaganza, this time detailing the movies seen from Friday through to Sunday. Hope you're still with me. Like most second acts, it's a dark and dreary road.

Halloween II (**)
Probably the worst Rob Zombie film, and that's saying something (I adore House of 1000 Corpses, but I'll freely admit it's a trainwreck of a movie). The problem isn't that Zombie has no good ideas. In fact, there are lots of good ideas here. A realistic look at what horror movie survival can do to a heroine, a solid amount of gore, and an incredibly well-used Malcolm McDowell. That said, the film is so horribly put together and has so many OTHER ideas that are simply garbage that I will recommend this one to the hardcore only.

Indie Sex (****)
A fantastic four-part documentary about sex in film, from the beginnings of cinema to the modern cutting edge of envelope-pushing art films. This one's a great tribute to a lesser-known line of films, from the incredibly influential to the extremely obscure, but treated with the proper thoughtful discourse that our culture so often lacks when it comes to such things.

If you're a film person? This is a must-see. For everyone else, I would simply say that if the subject matter interests you, there's little that's not covered here.

Anchors Aweigh (**)
An incredibly flawed musical starring Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra. As much as I like Gene Kelly, and as famous as the sequence of him dancing with Jerry the Mouse is, the movie's too long and too lacking in musical bits to really grab me. It just feels terribly bloated and self-important. I would suggest looking up the musical bits on youtube, and letting this one pass by the wayside.

La Vie en Rose (***)
A beautiful film about French singer Edith Piaf, this movie is ... frustrating. The character is well-acted, but is so terribly unlikable that I spent the first two thirds of the movie wishing I were doing something else. I don't know how accurate it is, but it's very off putting. That said, I think that it ends pretty well and the music and cinematography are second to none. I wouldn't go out of my way to recommend it, but then, I rarely think biopics scream recommendation.

What A Way to Go! (****)
A great dark comedy starring Shirley MacLaine and a bunch of leading men (Gene Kelly, Dick Van Dyke, Paul Newman, etc.) about her continued efforts to land a man who appreciates the simple life and her curse of them all trying to gain huge fortunes and dying. The movie is goofy, but one of the best things about it is that each of the men she goes through has a genre of film spoofed about their relationship. It's a neat touch, and the film itself is clever and light and everything it needs to be. A comedy that still works as much as the day it came out, a rare treat.

Les Paul: Chasing Sound (****)
A documentary about the life and accomplishments of Les Paul. It's good. I learned a lot. If you like music or interesting people, it's well worth watching. That is all.

Movie Rundown - Catching up, honest!

Okay, ladies and gents. It's been WEEKS since we've done this, because I kind of fell out of my movie watching habits aside from the odd new release, and ... well, to be honest, I didn't feel like writing about one movie at a time. Unfortunately, it's added up, and become a list so lengthy that trying to go through them all would be nigh impossible.

So you're getting three installments. First, we'll catch up to this past weekend. On Wednesday, we'll cover the weekend proper. And on Thursday, we'll talk about the movie marathon that saw me through Labor Day. I was going to make this one big tome of a thing, but a certain Miss Ditty, Esquire decided it would be best if I split it up and she generally knows what she's talking about.

So, here you go. The long road to the present!

Clerks 2 (****)
Clerks 2 was the end of this summer's Kevin Smith project, and has become tied with Chasing Amy as my favorite of his films. Things of note? Musical sequences, a great cap on the universe that's come from all of the other films, and Rosario Dawson being amazing (as she always is). I think that Kevin Smith's best watched in order, but if you've seen Clerks at least and enjoyed it, you owe it to yourself to see this brilliant, brilliant movie.

Nosferatu (***)
The original vampire movie. Like most silent films, it's nearly impossible for me to judge the quality. I thought it was okay, with the plus of atmosphere and an amazingly haunting portrayal of Nosferatu himself coupled with the fault that it ends rather abruptly with what I can only call a cop out. Still, for fans of horror movies or film in general, it's a must see.

(500) Days of Summer (***)
I really loved this movie a lot as I left the theater, and it struck a chord with me. There were parts of it that seemed taken exactly out of my experience. If I had written this then, it would have easily garnered four stars. That said, weeks have passed, and my feelings have cooled significantly. My problem with this movie is that it simply tries too hard to appeal to the hipster 20-something crowd. While watching it, I didn't notice as much, but it's most decidedly built to make everybody of a certain age think it's written about them. That touching personal nature instead started to feel like calculated demographic-targeted writing, from the quirky girl to the guy who talks about philosophy over a table arcade game to the Top 20 offbeat musicians that make up its soundtrack. It's nothing special, but if you're of the right age, I bet you'll walk out feeling like it touched you in some way. I just ... am not sure the intentions were correct.

Ponyo (*****)
Ponyo. Miyazaki. Either you know of the genius of Hayao Miyazaki or you know nothing of film. This isn't his best movie, but it's a brilliant movie, as just about everything he does is. This movie needs to be seen by everyone, as far as I'm concerned. It is, like all of his movies, magical.

District 9 (****)
Great movie, though the first half is FAR better than the second half. That said, it's the second best sci fi movie of the year so far (behind MOON) and is well worth people's time.

Inglourious Basterds (****)
Tarantino going back to the kind of noiry post-modern cinematic mashups that he did prior to Kill Bill. Fantastic movie. I ended up wishing that many of the characters had films about them. That's always a great sign. It's not going to win over anyone who hates Tarantino (those sad, misguided souls) but for everybody else ... I wouldn't be surprised to see this movie on my best of 2009 list.

Imbibers One Hundred (I got 39!)

Instructions:

1) Copy this list into your blog, with instructions.
2) Bold all the drinks you’ve imbibed.
3) Cross out any items that you won’t touch
4) Post a comment here and link to your results.

OR

If you don’t have a blog, just count the ones you’ve tried and post the number in the comments section.

List of Drinks You Must Try Before You Expire

1. Manhattan Cocktail
2. Kopi Luwak (Weasle Coffee)
3. French / Swiss Absinthe
4. Rootbeer
5. Gin Martini
6. Sauternes
7. Whole Milk
8. Tequila (100% Agave)
9. XO Cognac
10. Espresso
11. Spring Water (directly from the spring)
12. Gin & Tonic
13. Mead
14. Westvleteren 12 (Yellow Cap) Trappist Ale
15. Chateau d’Yquem
16. Budweiser
17. Maraschino Liqueur
18. Mojito
19. Orgeat
20. Grand Marnier
21. Mai Tai (original)
22. Ice Wine (Canadian)
23. Red Bull
24. Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice
25. Bubble Tea
26. Tokaji
27. Chicory
28. Islay Scotch
29. Pusser’s Navy Rum
30. Fernet Branca
31. Fresh Pressed Apple Cider
32. Bourbon
33. Australian Shiraz
34. Buckley’s Cough Syrup
35. Orange Bitters
36. Margarita (classic recipe)
37. Molasses & Milk
38. Chimay Blue
39. Wine of Pines (Tepache)
40. Green Tea
41. Daiginjo Sake
42. Chai Tea
43. Vodka (chilled, straight)
44. Coca-Cola
45. Zombie (Beachcomber recipe)
46. Barley Wine
47. Brewed Choclate (Xocolatl)
48. Pisco Sour
49. Lemonade
50. Speyside Single Malt
51. Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee
52. Champagne (Vintage)
53. Rosé (French)
54. Bellini
55. Caipirinha
56. White Zinfandel (Blush)
57. Coconut Water
58. Cerveza
59. Cafe au Lait
60. Ice Tea
61. Pedro Ximenez Sherry
62. Vintage Port
63. Hot Chocolate
64. German Riesling
65. Pina Colada
66. El Dorado 15 Year Rum
67. Chartreuse
68. Greek Wine
69. Negroni
70. Jägermeister
71. Chicha
72. Guiness
73. Rhum Agricole
74. Palm Wine
75. Soju
76. Ceylon Tea (High Grown)
77. Belgian Lambic
78. Mongolian Airag
79. Doogh, Lassi or Ayran
80. Sugarcane Juice
81. Ramos Gin Fizz
82. Singapore Sling
83. Mint Julep
84. Old Fashioned
85. Perique
86. Jenever (Holland Gin)
87. Chocolate Milkshake
88. Traditional Italian Barolo
89. Pulque
90. Natural Sparkling Water
91. Cuban Rum
92. Asti Spumante
93. Irish Whiskey
94. Château Margaux
95. Two Buck Chuck
96. Screech
97. Akvavit
98. Rye Whisky
99. German Weissbier
100. Daiquiri (classic)

Reposted from artofdrink.com.

The Omnivores 100 (I got 41!)

Reposted from Very Good Taste

The Omnivore’s Hundred

Here’s a chance for a little interactivity for all the bloggers out there. Below is a list of 100 things that I think every good omnivore should have tried at least once in their life. The list includes fine food, strange food, everyday food and even some pretty bad food – but a good omnivore should really try it all. Don’t worry if you haven’t, mind you; neither have I, though I’ll be sure to work on it. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise everything in the hundred, either; Wikipedia has the answers.

Here’s what I want you to do:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results.

The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Winter Night -short fiction-

By the time the snow rolled in it was already fully dark. When I had come into the bar the sun was still fitfully struggling against the quick descent of night but as always it gave up and ran away for another day and the winter night gripped the city. At first the snow was just a faint hint in the air, a heaviness to the clouds in the sky that only bespoke the possibility. But then it happened, and from the bar I could look outside and see the flakes falling so hard and fast it was hard to make out the building across the street.

"Aw, damn," the bartender said as he leaned against the bar and looked out the window with me. "I was hoping it'd swing south and miss us." He gestured towards my drink, only half a finger of scotch left in the glass. "You want another?"

"Probably shouldn't," I said. "It looks like it might get kind of nasty out there. I'll finish up and see if I can't get home before the worst of it hits."

"Smart man. By the time I get out of here, it's going to be hell. Doubt the plows will go by this way by then." He wiped down the bar and looked around at the other customers to see if he was needed by any of them. The bar was muted and slow with the weather pressing down so heavily.

I watched him tend to cleaning up as best he could and lifted the scotch glass. In the dim light, the amber liquid glistened. I moved the glass in a circular motion and watched its contents coat the inside of the glass. Then I lifted it to my mouth and downed what was left in a single swallow. It was mellow and slightly sweet in my mouth but warmed my throat all the way down to my stomach.

As I set my glass down the side door to the bar opened. Patrons all seemed to become smaller as the cold wind blew in and the temperature suddenly dropped. The figure who had opened the door came in, stomping their feet on the mat in front of the door. Snow dropped off of them and the temperature was finally climbing back to normal when they took off their coat. It was an old man, someone I didn't recognize. He was eyeing a spot at the bar.

I stood up and peeled my coat off the back of my barstool. "You can have this spot, sir," I said. "I'm headed out."

"Oh, thank you very much," the man said. "You have no idea how chilly it is out there. Feels like the temperature up and jumped off a cliff once the snow started. You be careful. Night like this it helps to stay inside."

"Thanks for the heads up," I said as I put my money down on the bar for the bartender. He was over filling up a pint, but waved at me as I headed for the door. I tried to slip out quickly to keep the hot air in, but I could feel everyone behind me retreat into themselves to stay warm as I stepped out into the cold.

Outside the world was quiet. The jazz music that had been playing inside was gone. Instead there was only the muted silence of a winter night in a heavy snowfall. You could hear it, the deafening silence when the world curled up. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and looked down the street. There was already nearly a good inch of snow fall on the ground, with the promise of more coming. I slowly made my way back to my car, the only moving thing on the street with my breath trailing in big puffs behind me.

By the time I got to the car I was covered in a thin dusting of snow. But that was nothing compared to the car. I shook off the snow as best I could before I got in and started the car, turning the heater and defroster on high. Then I grabbed the brush from the back seat of my car. Brushing the snow off the car was easy, it was light and powdery. But an untimely gust of wind meant that by the time I was done I was covered in snow and shake as I might, I was cold and wet by the time I got the car. It didn't help that it was still cold inside. The heater was trying, but it was unfair to ask the poor thing to fight off an entire season.

I breathed into my hands and cursed my lack of gloves. I hadn't expected this much snowfall tonight. I turned on the wipers to keep the windshield clean and waited for the car to start to heat up before I buckled my seat belt and put the car in gear and pulled off of the side street where I was parked.

The streets were nearly deserted everywhere. Cars were quickly becoming buried with snow and the few who were out and about were carefully hurrying home to get out from under it all. In the snow, the streetlights reflected off of the snowfall and the entire world was cast in a brighter, orange hue that it normally would be at night. At least I didn't have to worry about visibility.

With only the roar of the heater and the soft crunch of snow under my tires, I started the slow drive home. This time of night, most of the streetlights were flashing yellow and I rarely had to stop. Instead, the long stretches of road became a trek through a world that seemed transformed. Houses loomed dark far from the street. Drifts of snow curled around trees and danced in front of my headlights. From time to time, I spotted a plow a few blocks away, but I was taking out of the way streets.

I emerged from the residential area I was driving in to a major intersection. Here the street was a bit busier, with a plow trundling past at a snail's pace. Ahead I saw the road I would take to head home, a barely visible line that hadn't been touched by a plow yet. It led on and on, into the darkness, the street lights on either side lighting my way.

I idled for a moment, by now warm and damp but comfortable in my car. I looked ahead at the road I would need to travel, slippery and empty but leading towards home where the heat would have kicked on automatically and it would be warm and I could get a hot shower and maybe a cup of tea. I could be as comfortable as I wanted, waiting out the snow like everybody else.

I turned on my blinker, announcing to nobody that I was turning left. I turned onto the plowed road, seeing nobody aside from that single plow. I followed back behind it for a ways, avoiding the spray of salt and sand but happy to be driving in its wake. It was major roads all the way to my destination, many of them already plowed. Some were once again begin overtaken by drifting snow, others were kind of slushy from the salt and were treacherous. I kept it slow and they were no problem, though the snow kept coming down as if challenging me to stick around and see what it could do.

I was finally at my destination, the bright fluorescent glare of an open establishment on an otherwise dark and desolate street. There were a few cars parked outside, people as foolish as I was on a night like this. I slid into one of the parking spaces and shut my car off. The moment I opened the door, the wind blew against me and I felt the cold seeping into my body again. It was the kind of cold that made your bones ache. I pulled my coat tight against me and walked up to the entrance.

The sign on the door said YES, WE'RE OPEN. Inside were a few people sitting at tables and at the counters, all drinking from steaming cups of coffee. The cook was inside frying eggs and hash browns and sausages right on the other side of the counter. He was in the middle of some discussion with one of the patrons, his spatula being used as much for gesticulation as it was a cooking utensil.

Outside the door were a few people, one or two I recognized as possibly being regulars. The waitress was also outside. They were all huddled close to the entryway. I stopped at the group and said good night to them all. The waitress knew me, offered me a cigarette. I thought for a moment and looked in at the inside of the diner. In there was warmth and light and good smells and even better food. But it would still be there after a smoke.

I took the offered cigarette and lighter, setting the cigarette against my cold lips and flicking the lighter. The flame was bright in the darkness of this huddle and warm against my face for the brief moment it took to light the cigarette. I inhaled, warm smoke pulled into my body that heated my core even as I felt the wind take the heat from my hands. I would be frozen by the time I was done smoking. The rest of them looked well on their way there, too.

The waitress looked at me as I pulled my coat tighter around myself and tried to shield my one exposed hand from the wind as best I could. She was obviously amused. "Nice night we're having, huh?"

"The best," I said. I wasn't sure whether that was sarcasm or not.

"Shoulda stayed home," one of the other people, a short woman I didn't recognize, said. "Not a night to be out."

"What else am I going to do on a night like this, go home?" I answered her. I took another deep drag on the cigarette. Everyone around me laughed in understanding. The heavy snowfall and the brisk wind made the laughter silent to all but us.