by Delaney66
Last updated 9 years ago

Language Arts

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Morning CommuteWords: Sean Peterson

It's dark when the alarm goes off, dark and cold. The air wraps my chest when I pull the covers; the hardwood floors sting my feet. I stumble into the front room to get dressed for my morning commute. It's an hour on the bike, an hour on the bike at four in the morning, an hour on the bike at four in the morning in January, in the Midwest, in a below zero blizzard.

It takes 15 minutes to put everything on: base layer, thermal layer, wool sweater, wind suit, wool socks, toe covers, booties, balaclava, hat, gloves mittens, glasses, scarf, backpack.

My Pedals bang the door on the way out; the freezing air fills my lungs for the first time, my glasses fog instanly. I switch on my headlights , kick the snow off my cleats, clip in and roll down the driveway. I gradually gain momentum, my glasses clear, my eyes water, I see my breath imn the headlights, I push the pedals, I move into the dark and I smile because I'm the only person alive.

The snow is six inches



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