The Bitter Logan Winter

I saw him dip his fingers into the cup of hot chocolate. His awkward shuffle shook the cup and his fingers quickly retracted and then flicked as if the epidermis was unfamiliar with contact from a steaming drink. I ducked my head into my chest and laughed out loud at the humor of it. Then the cold dug deeper into my lungs and the laughter was suffocated. My head tilted up and focused on the blue panes cascading down the library exterior just a few hundred yards up the sidewalk. Refuge could be sought inside its walls. Then I started to notice my neck muscles cramping up. Likewise, I felt the cold denim brush against my exposed legs like Velcro on silk. Unconsciously I found myself doing math in my mind. If the bitterness of winter lasts till March, that is only a month and change left to go. I rounded the corner and the library doors came into sight. I breathed again and the vapor from my mouth paved the way forward. I was going to make it. At least, this time…