Rimy Road

It's a description paragraph like thing about winter.

The icy cold wind blows at my face, throwing frigid sharp daggers at my wind burnt cheeks, making them flame and scintillate in a shade of bright crimson. I chatter in the coldness and glance around me. The road was unadorned, except for a few tall streetlights that emits brightness to the entire street, or else I would be engulfed in darkness. I walked carefully over the rimy road, trying not to make a single sound. I froze whenever I heard an owl hoot, or when the trees rustle, and then continued walking heedfully across the ice-bound road. The gelid air I breath in seizes every bit of warmth there is left in me, leaving me standing alone on the deserted road, chilled to the bone. After what seemed like hours of trudging on the road, I finally arrived at my home, a small cottage at the end of the road. I fumbled for the key in my pocket, my numb fingers regaining its functions from the warmth in the pocket, but then exposed to the cold when I took it out to open the door. The door clicked open, and I found myself in lukewarm air, the familiar smell of warm sweet bread drifted in my nostrils, making me snug from head to toe. I collapsed on the couch in warmth with a pleasant feeling inside. 

Author's Note

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