i once stuck my tongue to a flagpole on a dare

All the cars outside look like giant marshmallows. The reflection from the snow is so bright that I can read with all the lights off. That purple-orange light reminds me of the same color that would pour in through the window from fresh snow when I was a kid, causing endless hours of insomnia from the excitement over the prospect of having a snow day.

Detroit is even more desolate than usual tonight - no tire tracks, no footsteps, just giant quiet white blankets. It looks so ckean for once. I used to get really really angry and cry when I was little when the mailman or the neighbors would walk across the yard disturbing the new snow; I loved the soft shapes it made. I hated the brown leaves with their little crunchy points poking through the clean snow. When I'd go out to go sledding, I'd tiptoe in existing tracks or where my Dad had already shoveled so as not to make any new tracks. Still to this day I'm inclined to do that.