Slush

Oh I do not love you on these 0C days, after a dump of snow that has actually stayed on the ground and roads. Your worst: the slush. Brown and grey, cold and gritty. Ugly as fuck. Flying from speeding cars and swerving cabs, landing on sidewalks in thick splats. Sometimes against unsuspecting pedestrians, already cursing the icy flakes that swirl from buildings in directionless bursts. That cold mucky brown goop that clings to boots, leaves murky puddles on the shop floor, tell-tale footprints up the aisle when you don’t care to be followed.

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