Power Microcosm

Chapter 20

  Art from Monet to convey the snowy world that has risen out of the blizzard.

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  Waking up I feel my cheeks are cold in the Alaskan morning. Though, the parts of my body that are under the heavy blankets and comforters are not as chilled, instead actually warm, surprisingly.

  Sitting up, I scratch the back of my head as I pick up my phone and look at the time. It's a little past nine. Raising my body up in the bed causes some of the bedsheets and comforters to fall off me, and that's cold, so I snuggle back into bed for a minute. The residual heat present lets me relax. Though, I'm guessing it's time to wake up, and perhaps downstairs somebody is cooking breakfast, and would probably be best if I was downstairs by now. I've seen enough shows with the generic untimely guest who never lives up to a modest humble visitor to a household. I'm not going to be one of those, especially with Azrael in the same household. I don't want to show off something I'm now, since I try to be a respectable person, and would never present myself as that only to appeal to Azrael, but should still appear as a wholesome individual who can be looked at with respect. So it's clear what I should be doing around now.

  Getting out of bed, changing exposes my nude body and the skin to the cold air, and makes me hurry the overall process. Taking off my clothes and putting on an undershirt, a long-sleeve shirt, and jeans and socks wards off the chilly morning air found within the confines of the room. I also wear the sweater that Azrael lent me. It stretches over my chest and I think maybe that'll catch Azrael's eye. Not to mention it keeps me toasty warm. Another nice little detail.

  After sitting on the bed and pulling my socks up past my ankles, I walk out my room and out into the hallway. Azrael's doorway is closed and isn't ajar for me to glance into, and I guess maybe he's either asleep or downstairs already. I decide to not knock as if he is asleep I might wake him and I wouldn't want to do that. There's an internal conflict where I want to see him, and I'm very tempted to knock just to maybe see his bedhead-hair, and possibly a cute waking face of Azrael, though the other side pushes back against that thought. Standing in front of his door doesn't settle these two warring thoughts, but a separate machination that some other member of Azrael's family walking out and seeing my standing oddly here does occur to me, and that causes me to move, heading toward the stairs, leaving the closed door. Though, I promise myself that I will be able to see Azrael.

   Entering the living room, I see that Duke as well as Shelly in the kitchen connected. They seem to have gotten up a short time ago, and notice me with an inviting and polite atmosphere.

  "Oh, good morning, Hogarth," says Shelly with a friendly smile.

  "Good morning," I reply, walking over to where they are cooking breakfast as I had expected.

  "Did you sleep alright?" asks Shelly.

  "I did," I say and glance out the window over the sink in the kitchen to outside, "is the blizzard still raging?"

  "The worst is behind us," says Shelly as she look outside as well and smiles, "there's supposed to be some mild snowing and cloudy skies, but tomorrow it's supposed to be rather pleasant. Not butterfly fields and buttercups, but it'll have the sun out with maybe one or two clouds that will block the sun for a minute or too. There'll be snow, only on the ground, and it'll still have some sunlight."

  Walking over to the window, I see that maybe half a foot of snow has piled onto the world. But with the sunlight that is fogged by the clouds above I see some of the details I didn't notice when I arrived yesterday night.

   Trees near the farmhouse stand bare and reaching up into the sky for warmth that the earth has shed from the departure of Proserpina, with the cold burying their feet. Around the proximity of the farmhouse is a brick wall, also covered in the white powder. The perimeter of the property also has a wooden fence, but I can't see the road hidden by snow. There's a nice painting out there that I remember from art class in high school, an impressionist painter who depicted a snowy farm, and the spectacle outside is redolent to me of that art piece. I think painting had the name of a bird, like raven, or the jackdaw, but I'm not sure. Regardless, it's a soft, calm, and shining winter scene outside.