This Week's Prompt:
What do you do on the day of a snowstorm?
I never liked snow. Snow made everything harder to do stuff. It was a pain to walk in, a pain to avoid, a pain to suffer through when a car drives straight into a puddle and splashes you. Seriously, don't those people have any sympathy for the poor suckers who have to walk to school? I guess I like snow the best at night. I'd just watch it fall, watch it drift from the clouds. The whiteness of it makes it look purer in the darkness, and it kind of looks like it glows under the streetlights and whatnot. Whenever I watch it fall like it, I can't help but like snow. But, during the day, I can't stand it.
There is no better epitome of a lie than New York covered in snow. The snow covers the grit and grime of the city underneath: the bland concrete floor is now a crisp white and the worn out, decaying brick buildings sport a brand new white coat. Everything glistened despite the time of the day, whether it was under the winter sun or in face of the city lights.
New York submerged in snow embodies the very definition of a lie.