I dressed as I had the day before. When I got out of my car to come inside, the grass was crisp under my feet, crunching, but it wasn’t wet. There was no humidity. The clouds were overcast, but not threatening. I expected the same the next day. Ice would form on my windows, which I’d have to scrape off as my car was warming up. I found that helped, though. It forced me to be patient instead of turning over the engine and pulling out, which wore sorely on the parts.
Before leaving, I took my winter coat. I had debated the spring jacket, as I had the day before, but realistically it would be in the thirties. Down the hallway and to the left, where three story windows to the stairwell caused me to pause, taking a look outside into a winter wonderland.
The snow came down in large flakes, dancing in the winds, to the left and right, doing pirouettes over the blacktop. My windshield only required wipers, and my windows took one swipe from my coated arm. As I prepared his car, listening to music, I watched the snow from the ground drift and dance, like steam lifting up in the frigid landscape.