Nails on a chalkboard. Awake, I scanned my cold, empty room. Green alarm clock lights displayed 3:03. Experience said there was no chance of falling into a restless sleep. A noise from the street below echoed scars from my dream and shook the night’s unusual stillness. Beyond my window, streetlights illuminated snowflakes performing detached dances.
Snowplow, my mind decoded.
I considered my options and opted for the least obvious. It didn’t take long to dress and descend into ankle deep oblivion. Buffered silence swaddled my anguish as I walked deserted streets to reluctantly face the reality of being alone again.