In The Middle Of A Long, Cold Winter [FICTOID]

The icy wind cut his lungs like a razor.  Snow so cold it froze dry like powder swirled around him, finding entry under his cloak, under his scarf, under his vest.

For the grace of God, I must redeem myself, he thought, but who in this desolate land in this desolate season would hear his confession, pardon his sins.

No one.

He tread softly through the snow, each footstep scrunching down to pack hard, then filling up behind him with fresh snow flakes.

Night came early and stayed long, but he found lodging in the city’s futuristic opera house with a handful of other winter refugees.

They proved a motley crew, confining themselves to the wardrobe department as a means of retaining meager body heat.

“You’re late,” the toothless young woman said.  “We almost started without you.”

He shrugged and cast off his cloak, loosening his scarf, pulling off his boots to dry.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked, as if not knowing the answer.

The toothless young woman smiled and slapped the box of drink mix she sat on.  It came in a variety of flavors, but since they dare not start a fire among the costumes, they always mixed it with snow until it became a slush.

“Milkshakes!” she said, taking too much glee in her announcement.

© Buzz Dixon