When he thought they’d had enough, he turned off the wind. It was making the sleet too painful to walk through. Never let it be said he didn’t show them sympathy. But he was tired of the myth he’d been done away with everywhere, thanks to better heating systems, savvier consumers, global warming.
Still, the ice piled up. Their cars wouldn’t start, the engines frozen with it. The air, such bite, so very, very grim, his harsh reminder of their vulnerability.
He would have to remember to tell Spring to go easy on them on his way out the door.
Author’s Note: In my neck of the woods, where we’ve often been called ‘weather wimps,’ dealing with the coldest season can feel like doing battle with a physical adversary.