Whiteout

The winter storms that leave people frozen inside their homes…

Whiteout

The world didn’t end loudly.
It froze.

Pipes screamed inside the walls,
sirens swallowed by snow,
power lines bowed like tired spines
and finally gave in.

Ice stitched the roads shut.
Tires spun prayers into slush.
Time stalled—
no heat, no light,
just breath counting itself in the dark.

The wind learned our names
and kept repeating them,
rattling windows like warnings
we were never taught how to answer.

Fingers forgot what warmth was.
Candles became currency.
Silence weighed more than the snow
piling grief against the doors.

Outside, the sky was beautiful—
cruel in its calm,
blue as indifference,
bright enough to mock us.

Inside, we learned
how thin the line is
between shelter and exposure,
between “this is fine”
and disaster.

Winter didn’t hate us.
It didn’t need to.
It only reminded us
how fragile we are
when comfort disappears.