It's Snowing

The snow is coming down hard and heavy. It’s not storybook, postcard snow anymore. But it’s not quite weather warning snow either. But that’s because this snow was unpredicted, a complete surprise to everyone. Except me. The weather people on TV look so confused and flustered, they have no idea what to say. Motorists are stuck on roads, trapped at a crawling pace on their twenty-minute journeys home. But I knew this was coming. I’ve been here before. They details are fuzzy now, but I have been here, lying on the sofa in pain, waiting all before. I have been dreading this day for quite some time. I was never sure exactly when it was going to happen, but I’ve been in the right house for a few years now, and the right shows have been coming back on TV. The thing is, it’s like I know what’s going to happen, but I can’t change anything on the way. I only know bits and pieces – I knew where I was going to be and the clothes I would be wearing – but I couldn’t change any of the small things that might have made a difference. I don’t even know what the small things are.

            

It’s still snowing. And it’s going to keep snowing for a while now. I don’t know when it will stop, but I know that it will be snowing when it happens. In this image or memory or whatever it is that’s in my head, it’s snowing and the sky is dark. There will be people there, but they won’t be able to help. Phone calls will be being made, and there will be blood on the towels that will surround me. The TV will be on in the background. But there’s nothing any one will be able to do.

          

I don’t know when it’s going to happen, but it hurts now. No one is here yet, but some are on their way. I want it to happen soon so that the pain will end, but I don’t. I don’t really know what happens after, but I’m worried it’s going to be the end. I can’t be sure, but there is going to be a lot of blood and a lot of tears. I hope someone will get here soon.

It had all been going so well, a part of me thought that maybe this wasn’t going to happen after all. Maybe it was some kind of warning – if I was somehow more careful, or luckier this wouldn’t have to happen. I ate right and went to doctor’s appointments. I read everything I could. I tried not to let myself get too attached. Maybe that’s where I went wrong. I tried so hard and now there’s blood on the floor and I can’t even move to get a towel. People are arriving now, I can hear them struggling with the door. It’s always been stiff. Or maybe I knew that from before, I’m not sure.

Despite all of it, I still don’t actually know what’s wrong. I don’t know what happened and neither does anyone else. The roads are blocked and phones are being cut off. I really don’t know what’s going to happen and there’s just so much blood. I hope I’m okay. I hope we are.

Laundry Night

The machine threw her clothes around and around. The linoleum floor was cold and uneven, but it hardly mattered. It was that sort of night. Vibrations were making their way down her spine from the stacks of machines that piled up to the ceiling. The sun had set hours ago but the room was still oversaturated from the industrial strength fluorescent bulbs. The cycle should have ended by now. At least the room was empty; she wasn’t in the mood for ephemeral gossip.

Only four minutes, now. Watching her clothes, she couldn’t help but see the other times she had worn them. Sunny days and rainy museum trips were mixed in with first dates and last kisses. Warm nights when secrets were told were thrown around with arguments that had ended in slamming doors and red faces. Waiting in the cold for the same bus over and over sharing the same space as cinema trips and popcorn.

Some had been washed more than others, but it still didn’t seem to get them clean enough. Old friends still left their smell and touch in the seams and the stitches. Rehashed conversations were printed on the back of the label where no one bothers to look, with old memories tucked deep inside pockets. Nearly ready to be dried.