It was about 12:30 in the afternoon, and I left my apartment to head to an appointment. It was my first apartment and I hadn't lived there for long; it was not a great place. It was below street level and on heavy rain days the water seeped under the door leading to the back of the building, and soaked the dreary brown carpeting in my new home. It was in a crummy building not far from downtown, but it was easy to get public transportation from there. That and my inexperience at apartment-hunting led me to jump at the chance to rent this place, thinking I wouldn't find much better. Another freezing day, it had to be about 30 degrees. The sky was the color of steel and it made a dramatic contrast to the skyscrapers lined up against it. I was walking beside my building toward the corner, where a guy in a thin leather jacket was already waiting at the bus stop. The sky darkened a bit. I was wondering how the guy could possibly be warm dressed like that when I noticed a flake whip past my face. And another. It couldn't be snowing. The weather reports hadn't mentioned any chance of it. When I finally turned the corner of the building, a thousand snowflakes rushed out and surrounded me, whirling around, blocking my view of the litter-filled sidewalks and turning the avenue into a snow-globe. In the midst of it, the man stood still. I felt the wet flakes on my hair and knew I needed to run back to my apartment for a hat, but I didn't move. Neither of us was willing to admit we were standing in the middle of a snowstorm. I looked in his direction again and saw that he was staring at me. We both smiled and began to laugh – this was really happening! I turned and trotted back around the corner to my apartment, giggling as I searched for my black beret. When I stepped back outside a few minutes later, hat on my head, the gray sky was gone and replaced with intense sunshine. The snow had disappeared and the slick, damp streets produced an uncomfortably bright glare. My bus was pulling up to the curb. The man in the leather jacket took a few steps toward the bus, waiting for the doors to open. I tried catching his eye, to acknowledge the bit of craziness we'd just shared. But he climbed aboard the bus the moment the doors slid open and after a second passenger entered, so did I.
The wind roared around the house like an enraged beast, rattling shutters and breaking tree branches as it did. Claws of icy air fought their way inside through the damaged panes and worn-out frame of my old farmhouse window. I curled into a tight ball under my blankets; piled as they were, it still wasn't enough to keep out the cold. I shivered as a particularly strong gust made the entire house groan. Sleep eventually claimed me, despite the bone-deep chill. I dreamt of arctic blizzards. Outside, the night's tempest howled on.