bellingham was recently covered in a light layer of fluffy, harmless, happy-looking snow.
wrong.
bellingham was pelted with frigid and relentless snow that turned into one giant, very unfriendly sheet of ice.
walking across campus is what i imagine walking the plank was like. you know that your death is approaching, but that blindfold keeps you from knowing exactly when. i see the ice. i feel the ice. i know that more of my body than I want is soon going to feel the ice when i careen out of control, off of my feet, and onto that menacing layer of frozen death.
ah, to be back in fall, when the streets weren't laden with ice, but leaves.
