Death is Cold

Southbound 75th Street, between 98th and 90th Avenues

It was getting darker by the minute. I should’ve known it would, it’s been winter for months now, and I’ve lived at this latitude my whole life. I should’ve known that it would get dark. And cold… it was very cold. I flinched as the breeze hurled a stray snowflake into my eye. The sky had been clear just moments ago and still there were tiny particles of ice floating down from it.

I shivered.  The wind was picking up quickly, no wonder there were flurries and a clear sky, the wind was just blowing around the hardened crystals from the roof and treetops. I cupped my thinly gloved hands around my eyes for a moment, before deciding that it would be better to keep them in my pockets.

I continued walking down the street. There wasn’t a sidewalk anymore. It was my own fault; I’d mistaken the bus number, and was now half way across town. I left the bus as soon as I saw a place I vaguely recognized. I suppose that had been my second mistake.  I’d only been on this road twice before in my life, and both times I had been driving a car.  That is why I had to follow the road, even though the road had no sidewalk.  Jaywalking was suddenly something I had to do… I mean, I had no choice after ending up on a thin stretch of median.  I wasn’t scared of the cars though, there was a huge frozen ridge of plowed snow between them and me.  No, I was much more afraid of the coming dark, and the wind, and the cold.

As the wind picked up, it seemed to steal away all my precious body heat.  My legs and toes were completely numb in my unlined yet fashionable leather boots and not-quite-yet-worn-out blue jeans.  I hadn’t dressed for this weather at all. Well, I hadn’t planned on this trek through what appeared to me to be a frozen wasteland either.  I looked at the cars going by, and the wind pulled tears from my eyes.

I wondered what they thought as they drove by, probably nothing to do with me. I walked on. There was still no sidewalk. But there was a sort of median between the residential street and the main road I was following.  The two were parallel, so I did my best to navigate the uneven, icy footing of the quiet residential one. Not an easy feat in heels. It is a wonder I hadn’t fallen yet.

Not even a bus stop. I looked ahead. There were traffic lights on the horizon.  Goodness, it is almost impossible to describe the difference in distance perception when driving vs. when on foot.  It really didn’t seem so far when driving.

It had taken me ages to get to that other intersection. The one I most distinctly remembered while driving. There was no left-turning light, and that road was always busy.  As a young driver, it took me a rather embarrassing amount of time to figure out that I had to turn on the yellow. Provided no one in the oncoming traffic was going to run it, as was my fear.

The street lamp flicked on. Now I’m really in trouble. Of course my phone was either malfunctioning because of the cold, or the battery was dead, either way, useless.  And hadn’t my last text read “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine”?  Oh the irony.

Of all the things I could be, fine wasn’t one of them.  The wind stung my face, and my purse bumped up against my leg with each step. You’d think that last part wouldn’t have necessarily been such a negative thing, I mean, that is what purses do when you walk, but I couldn’t feel it.

I could feel the motion of the swinging purse on my arm, and based on its irregular swinging, I knew it was bumping against something. In my brain, I knew it was my leg. But that idea most certainly did not come from any sensory systems in my leg.  I could not feel anything.  My brain told my legs to walk, and they still kept going, so I guess that counted for something.

I looked up from the icy ground again, and saw that the stop lights were closer, and better yet, that there was finally a bus stop on the other side of the road. The residential road turned sharply, so I crossed the median, and then used the cross walk to get to the stop. 

Beyond the stop, further south, was the direction I would have gone if I was driving.  Shockingly it was even less conducive to walking than the residential street had been. There was no side walk, and there was no street. It was just the snowy side of the road that backed a long fence, the kind of fence that lines those residential areas.

It would be better to wait at this bus stop. I knew at least one of the buses that stopped here would take me where I needed to go.

I stepped into the glass interior, which was rather pointless, since there was a space between the glass and the ground about four inches high. The wind still blew around my feet and the frigid air filled the space.

I looked at the list of bus numbers, and then turned to the bench. The metal seat would be freezing, but my feet hurt from my heeled boots. So I sat down.

I hadn’t realized how much my shoulders were aching from the weight of the backpack. I leaned back, and rested my head on the wall.

It was so cold, that as I exhaled, the mist instantly became solid and opaque frost on the glass wall. I was so tired; I had walked such a long way.  It was almost completely dark now, the headlights passed me by, and the traffic lights flashed brightly.  I think it was actually snowing now, I could see it just where it was falling beneath the streetlight. I was so cold; my toes were actually burning, and the burning felt almost comforting.  I let my tense shoulders relax; I was already slumped up against the side anyway. So tired…  The moisture the wind had sucked out of my eyes rolled down my cheek, and against my will, my eyelids drooped, and then were closed.