I ready myself to leave Days of the Dead. I want to be there for every day, but I don't have the money, and I am denied a vendor table. I leave early. I say my goodbyes to the one friend who showed up as a fan, and as I go through the revolving door, I see an Arab gentleman entering. He wears a turban, and snow has frosted the top of his headwear. Then I see the outside world, and I curse it. Snow falls heavy and hard, flakes the size of pennies.
I have a long walk back to the parking garage, and I can feel my entire body being infected by these flakes. I follow the path through the parking lot, and a young woman with a big umbrella approaches me. She is looking at her iPad and pays me no mind, but I can hear what she's looking at. The X-Files theme echoes back to me as I watch the snow fall in front of me. The mad calliope drifts to me in the soft breeze, and I can see every individual snowflake fall before my eyes.
A hush falls across the land, and I'm alone. I blink, and I can see a freeze frame of the falling snow. In the distance I can see trees, bare of leaves, skeletal branches reaching toward the powdery sky. I pause, and I look about me. No one is present to see this silent beauty, and I feel kind of important. This moment is for me, and for me alone. I snap a picture which I will eventually post to my Twitter, but it doesn't do that hushed silence justice. It's a frozen moment in time, and it's gone, never to be replicated. Never to be explained.
I move on to the parking garage, which is also silent. I feel a moment of fear when I realize that I'm alone, and if anything were to happen, my slightly pacifistic self would be left alone to deal with any threat that might present itself. I see a man approach me, and I can only guess what he sees. An overweight man with a fresh goatee and his hair and shoulders frosted with the fresh snowfall.
He ignores me. I ignore him. Our worlds are not threatened. I get in my car and drive home in the first blizzard of the year. Snow flows around me like star beams in hyperspace.
I arrive home. The beauty is still out there, despite my attempts of capturing it. But that's all right. You will all find it without my help. I hope it serves you well.