Tears spring to my eyes as I watch the storm in stunned silence. Even the snow gets to dance
Ridiculous. The whole situation is ridiculous. “How,” I mutter, wrapping myself in my favorite chenille blanket, “do they have self-driving cars, yet a snowstorm can still knock out the power lines?”
The house is a freezing, pitch-black tomb; I hear my family migrating to the kitchen, where I’m sure Mommy has turned on the stove for heat and is lighting candles and distributing flashlights. I’m about to join them, but then I realize that taking the steep stairs in the dark with an orthopedic boot is not the smartest course of action. Well then, I’ll just wait until someone remembers me.
I wake up an hour later, tired and achy in a way that means it’s way too cold in my room. “Oh, that’s nice,” I say aloud to my empty room. No one came to see where I am. I have not been missed, I think cheerfully.
Fine, time to brave the stairs it seems.
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