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Weekly Contest #331
It’s been ten years since Plainfield’s last snowfall. And ten years since the accident. For most of my youth, I associated snow with childhood bliss—the kind of bliss that wraps you in a soft, fuzzy blanket on a late winter night, taking in the crisp smell of pine trees and whatever sweet treats were baking in the oven. But for the last decade, I’ve only felt anxiety and shame whenever winter comes. Whenever I felt a chill, my body tensed with anticipation. I braced for potential snowfall in such a heavy, daunting way that it crippled me, bu...
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