-30

This morning’s light seemed to blink on, suddenly, like an urgent message. It painted the lone, brittle cloud, racing somewhere warmer, a shocking school-bus yellow. There’s a -30 degree wind-chill this morning, my coffee seemed hotter and more comforting. I usually keep my windows cracked at night but this air feels aggressive and sharp as a knife. The quad, usually bustling on weekend mornings, is empty and the few cars I see are smoking like old steam trains. I was dreaming of sweets and of walking to “Donut Crazy,” but that actually would be crazy, if not suicidal. “Ooo!” I say after digging through the kitchen cupboards, “we have pop-tarts!”