Mom leaves me hanging by the car as she goes to find someone before we get my bags out of the car. I don’t expect her to take as long as she does, so I get out the car and lean against the door wishing I had something warmer on than a flimsy sweater. I can even feel the cold bite of the snow through my jeans. I glance at my surroundings but as before, it’s too dark to see more than I already have but I can just about make out the horizon. We seem to be pretty high up and I can tell we are somewhere near the mountains.
Now I am alone, I reach down and pick up some of the snow and rub it between my fingers. It’s both soft and hard at the same time and it melts just as easily as I had picked it up. I have never minded the cold, but this weather is artic, and I don’t know how I am ever going
