2 Days To Go

See this entry for an explanation of this madness.

Elijah stood leaning against the barrier to the ice, clutching to his coffee, and watching.

It was mayhem out there, the kind pretending to be controlled, hiding behind the idea of being full of festive cheer and happy families.

He watched, bemused, as an old man in a top hat skated past on one leg, somehow managing to keep firm hold of what was presumably his granddaughter, a beautiful blonde mini-diva in a fine red coat.

The vision was obliterated, as his sight was invaded by something white and blurry. It felt unmistakeably cold and damp. Snowballs it was, then.