I Shouldn’t Be Alive

My alarm clock siren broke my relaxation, I had to move. My head and limbs felt like lead weights as I climbed out of my warm a secure bed. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked out my foggy window optimistic about the new day. I quickly dressed, and grabbed a bite to eat, brushed my teeth, and then stepped out into the world. My feet crunched as they hit the ground, it was some white powdery substance, “snow,” I thought. This menace to society is an ever present risk during the winter months, so much as a few inches of this seemingly beautifully and fragilely made powder can shut down entire societies. I scowled at the site of it and made my way towards my vehicle, my cold hands trembled as I wiped the snow off of its windshield and headlights. It was still dark as I started off towards my destination.
The road was arduous, and my progress was slow, but I had to reach my destination. I was constantly counter-steering to keep myself on the road; I was dodging downed trees and the occasional stranded road warrior. My engine was fully revved and my tired constantly spinning. My destination was in sight, I could make out its mighty silhouette against the morning sky. At that precise moment of great beauty, misfortune visited my journey. My car careened off the road, struck a road sign, slid into another motorist, and ended up on its roof in a ditch. I was badly bruised and suspected I had cracked a few ribs, but my ability to travel on foot was unhindered. I scratched and clawed my way through the mounds of snow, my feet and hands frozen. I was losing consciousness when I saw it, my destination. I crawled through the door and regained my warmth and strength. I walked through the hallways and searched for what I was seeking. “Here it is!” I said aloud in my most ecstatic voice. I opened the door and waited for warm greetings, but alas they never came. The room was empty, “I must be wrong, where is it?” I thought. I turned to search elsewhere and there I saw it, a note. “Class has been cancelled today, Love Your Professor.”