Poignant Blurs

Creativity Works

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Location: Florida, United States

"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours." - Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Return of Winter

She started out running. It was a good pace, her body felt strong and she purposefully flung her ponytail from side to side with each step, enjoying the feel of bounce. Then the air started to crystalize in her lungs, and she remembered that it was January. She slowed to a light jog, cheeks and nose turning pink with white spots of beginner frost bite. She had gone about a mile, when she had to slow to a walk, chest heaving, and light headed. She bent slightly at the knees, and her eyes darted around the empty streets looking for somewhere to go inside and get a drink of water. She literally felt as if her esophagus had frozen over.
She spotted a diner on the corner, and walked briskly toward it, rubbing her gloved hands together and holding them over her mouth and nose to warm the air that passed between her fingers. The diner was dimly lit, giving it a dingy yellow-brown hue inside. At first she thought it might be closed, but it was the middle of the day, although admittedly one couldn't tell by the dark gray outdoor weather.
Bells on the door jangled as she pulled it open and stepped inside. A squat little woman with a hairnet and apron poked her head out from around a corner to what must be the kitchen, and called "witcha in a minute darlin'" in a sing-songy voice.
Trina sat down at the counter and rubbed her legs, gloves still on. The diner was warm and she felt herself begining to thaw. She used to run everyday, but this had been her first run since coming back up north. She had avoided it for precisely this reason. Her teeth and gums ached from the cold, and a coppery taste was in her mouth.
The squat woman emerged, fresh pot of coffee in hand, "I imagine you'd be liking a cup of this"
"Oh yes!" Trina replied, greatful.
The woman poured a cup and set out creamers and a sugar caddy. Trina pulled her gloves off and reached for the hot cup, eager to wrap her fingers around it. She leaned her face over the cup and inhaled the steam into her chapped nostrils. Immediately her nose began to run.
"That's much better isn't it darlin'" said the waitress, as Trina ducked her head and grabbed a napkin to catch her nose. "Yessum thanks", she mumbled into the napkin.
"You were running then darlin? On a day like this?" queried the waitress, sympathetically. She looked to be in her mid-forties, and her round homely face folded into a look of genuine concern when she spoke.
"Yessum", mumbled Trina "I used to do it back home everyday, I just got to feeling so cramped in that house".
"Mmm, yes, it can get a bit dreary in these parts during January. Where ya here from?"
"Oh my yes, you must miss it there right now musn't ya?"chuckled the waitress.
Trina nodded her head as she leaned into the coffee for a sip. The hot liquid coursed down her parched esophagus, and filled her belly with a distinct and comforting glow. She did not want to talk anymore. The waitress seemed to sense this, for she refilled Trina's cup and with a wink went back to the kitchen.


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