Frozen

The man wrapped his arms around himself as he braced against the cold.  He tried to look up, but the wind tore at his eyes and face, tears began to stream down his cheeks.  He had hoped the tears would be warm on his face, but they weren't.  He tried to focus, one foot in front of the other.  He looked down at his shoes, and the snow looming up around them.  He breathed in the air; it made his lungs cry out in pain.  Every breath was another sharp, cold stab.  He tried to look around him again.  Nobody was there, nobody to help him.  The night sky was dark; all he could see was the snow and ice that fell.  The sound of the howling wind filled his ears.  He felt his nose starting to drip, but that was the least of his worries.  He had lost feeling in his fingers over an hour ago.  He tried shoving his hands in his armpits, but everywhere felt cold.  All of his muscles ached, he felt like he was frozen, right down to the bone.  He continued to trudge along, but his steps started to falter. His breaths became short and sharp, and he felt his body starting to curl up and lose control.  Trying to look through the blackness was useless.  He looked at his feet again and saw that they were stumbling and dragging in the snow.  He tried to control them, but they would not obey. They tripped and gave out from underneath him.  He began falling towards the ground; his hands reached out and stopped him.  But as soon as they hit the snow he felt overwhelming pain shoot through them.  He cried out, screamed, but he could not be heard over the sound of the wind.  He clasped his hands trying to warm them up.  But his thoughts began to fade, and he suddenly felt quite sleepy.  Then he saw it, about 40 meters in front of him, his salvation. He clamoured to his feet and stumbled forward.  He held his body tightly as he began to run for the light ahead.  35, 20, 15, he was getting closer, but it still felt like there were miles between him and the light.  His skin felt like it was on fire from the cold, and his muscles begin to retract, but he pushed on.  He was close now, and he stumbled up the steps.  He raised his cold dead fist, and painfully banged on the door.  He rested his face against the large door, the wind was still loud and he tried to block it out.  The door opened and he stumbled.  It was a woman, she looked him up and down.  She saw his dirty raggedy clothes, skinny frame and unclean face, then she snapped her gum.  In a monotone voice, she said, “Sorry, we're full.  Try the one on West Street.” Then she closed the door in his face.  The man stumbled back down the steps in a daze. He looked at the bright, neon sign that read Men's Shelter go out, and everything went black.

-Kirsten M.