Thursday, January 16, 2014
100 Words a Day 518
The cold wind cut through his coat and chilled him to the core. It was his first winter in Chicago and not even the dire predictions of the other San Franciscans had prepared him for what he was experiencing. The coat he'd brought was pretty, but did little to protect him from the wind. All around him people trudged, leaning into the gusts, only their eyes visible. His hands and feet ached. Bitter cold were the words he used to conceptualize it, but the truth was these did not encompass the feelings of pain and total misery he was experiencing.