Day Forty-Two

'Commute'

Dawn seemed accelerated by the sleek blanket of ice encrusted snow. The minuscule discrepancy between blind and window edge glowed like welding fire, disrupting the connection between time and light this time of year. As his cell phone threatened suicide by an inadvertent vibratory plunge, he wondered why he would set his alarm on a Sunday. And then, with more urgency, how late he must be if it was already so bright. And then, what is my wife still doing in bed as well.

He arose like Lazarus, peered through the horizontal slats, and regressed back to childhood. SNOW! I love snow I love snow I love snow; snow snow snow. He sweetened his coffee with a light flurry; allowed his toothbrush to skate along his teeth; skidded and slid perfect circles in his Subaru hatchback and, magically, found himself sitting at a traffic light. How did his windshield and side windows magically become cleaned of snow and ice, and why was it so unspeakably hot in there? He was already spoiling his freshly ironed attire!

Opening his window, he craved being enthused by the crispy January air. Rather than refreshment, his chest rebelled and revolted. What the fuck was that smell and taste? Not the clutch (thanks Benny!); not bus exhaust; not his underarms or any other part of his body. No fresh presents left by his dog in his backyard. He didn't remember passing anything foul out of either mouth or rear.

And then it memory kicked in and he felt compelled to apologize to every person who had ever stopped next to or behind him at a light or in traffic. He never imagined the smell of cigarette smoke had the remarkable ability to travel that far. Once the smoke diffused into the air, why wouldn't its smell follow suit? In fact, this smoke seemed to have gathered all other foul smelling things in its path (including the presumed unkempt mouth of the unshaven driver of the F350 with plow attachment and feigned masculinity).

How irresponsible smokers are, soiling the cilia of all unexpected bystanders. He closed the window and turned off the heat. It might have been the most perfect morning ever, too!

But, where was he driving again?