Blizzard
Ryan P. Standley

The storm had ended all cell phone reception. Luke tried the ground line, which maintained a constant busy signal. A blizzard was nailing the university, dropping three feet in two hours, with more coming. Five-foot drifts prevented doors to Luke’s dorm from opening alone. A beefy laptop user in the south common helped push, and asked why Luke should face such a storm. Luke nodded thanks and secured his scarf over bare skin.

He trudged heavily, leaning forward into the wind, facing downward, unable to see, arms stretched wide for balance. His corduroy coat and jeans were already covered in white powder, which snuck into his boots and melted, wetting his socks. A decision to run, which shook snow off his coat, warmed his muscles, and chilled his lungs, coughing, shivering, and silently cussing himself. Once Luke looked up, he spun, having already passed by Schafer Hall. Only one other brave sole’s tracks disturbed pristine drifts as Luke stomped through and heaved at the door, which didn’t budge. He banged on the glass with gloved fists. Hot breath fogged his view as he waited with shrugged shoulders, hopping repeatedly until a reply sounded from within.

The three women behind the door teased Luke and his nerve. He nodded thanks and stomped off over a rug, passed the vacant registry desk, entered the elevator, hit seven, removed his gloves, and rubbed his palms together. A smile formed as he knocked on his girlfriend’s door. Roommate Sophia answered, phone on her ear, and said Michelle wasn’t in. She had gone to find Luke at Patrick Hall.

At Word Slaw, read samples of Ryan P. Standley’s writings and calls for submissions: http://wordslaw.blogspot.com/

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Get Cran Herlihy’s art and poetry from Great Mystery Publishing, http://www.greatmysterypublishing.com/index.htm