Alternative

         The snow fell hard. Inches upon inches covered the yards and streets and sidewalks, leaving nothing but a cold, white blanket on the man/made earth. The only indicator of life was the staggered holes showing signs of walking leading in various directions. These "footsteps" that looked more like holes in a sheet of paper belonged to those brave enough to venture out into the frosted wasteland. Many of those people were from the north who would say things like "this is nothing" and "I grew up in this." Others were simply infatuated with the idea that it could snow at all in the city of San Antonio. So they ran out, laughed and played for ten minutes before retreating into their suburban homes to enjoy heating and watch movies. This was the coldest winter in decades, they have every right to hide from the diseased climate.
         And yet, I stand out here, shovel in hand, pushing snow off of my car. Why? Well, that's a difficult question to answer. The easiest thing to say is I simply don't want the snow to stay too long. Of course, it wouldn't matter as there is likely to be more snow on the way soon. Maybe it's because I want to enjoy the weather while it's here? That would just be a lie. It's cold, my bones ache. I want to stop, but I refuse. So what is it? What's holding me in place?

         Inside the house is my mother. I don't wanna be near my mother.

         So I continue my shoveling, hacking away at the blanket that covers my car. Truth be told, it isn't exactly worth all this trouble. If I had somewhere to go, then maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Alas, I am just unlucky. At the very least, if it doesn't snow again tonight, I can say I was smart enough to get a head start. I can boast about that to my friends later.
         More snow falls to the curb. The picture of my car became clearer and clearer with each swipe, and before you knew it was there, all the white fluff had been wiped clean from my vehicle. What was once a mound of snow and ice, now is a 2018 Toyota Camry, blue and shiny. Surprisingly enough, I have yet to break a sweat. My body still aches; I can feel the cold in my socks. Even worse, thanks to my constant thinking, I never noticed until now that I can't even feel my fingers..... I should go.
         I tightened my grip on the shovel and mushed my way across the snow. Each step was difficult. It felt as though I had a five pound weight on each foot. Nevertheless, I've done plenty of physical labor before, this wasn't trouble at all. I reached the front door, kicked my shoes a couple times into the cement, and headed inside.

         I shuffle my feet across the mat indoors as the cold air flies through the living room ahead. I immediately turn around to shut the door, however I'm greeted with a pestiferous squeal.
         "SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!"
         I flinch. I was expecting something to be said, just nothing so violent and ear-piercing. I slam the door, preventing the outside wind from turning our cozy home into a refrigerator. Jeez, I sighed. Only one person could have made such an awful sound. I turn and come face to face with the most evil witch I've ever met. My mother.
         She is sitting on the couch purple windbreaker jacket that is one size too big, her legs hidden behind sweatpants that are gray and thick. Her fuzzy green slippers throw the whole outfit off, nonetheless she looks cozy. I look up to see her eyes squinted and filled with rage. The green iris in each of her eyes resemble poison, her pupils resemble inescapable black holes, and the whites are barren. She's clearly upset, and yet I could care less. At least I could find some amusement in the situation. The beanie on her head that covered her long brown hair was slanted a little, making her out to be a deranged homeless person, minus the dirt.