It is a dark and desolate night. The wind howls. The streets gleam, sheet ice. Not a soul in sight.
Not a night to venture forth.
Go back, my brain urges my legs, go back into the cozy warmth. I’ve forgotten to put on woolen leggings under the two pairs of sweatpants.
But my legs stalk on, two icy ski poles. Beneath my tractor-tread boots, sharp crampon spikes slip on hard-packed ice.
This is no night to be out.
My hood slips low, my scarf rides up, my glasses frost over. I can see nothing. What to do? a) take off my big sheepskin glove and risk frostbite to scrape the frost off my glasses? or b) continue without frostbite but unable to see where I am going?
Crazy to be out on a night like this.
Except for the barista and five lonely souls huddled together, the café is as empty as the streets. Who would be out on a night like this?
We grip our pencils and lean in.
“Tonight’s prompt is…”
Yep, definitely worth coming out on a night like this.