A Rotten Movie!

A snowstorm yesterday. I slogged. All day. It was Biblical. Epic. Like one of those Cecil B. Demille flicks. I was being challenged by all the dark elemental forces Cecil could conjure. I mean, it was a rotten movie. And I was Charles Heston, raging against the wind. I spent much of the day just trying not to fall off my bike, yes, I was riding a bike to get to places I had to go. I was being paid to get to these places, and to do things I was supposed to do. Not a lot of money was dispensed to me to do these tasks. It seemed like a dark joke, right? 

And there were a few close calls. How close? I don't know. But, for instance, I'm riding a bike down an icy, snowy street, the cold pavement is rolling below my boots, and I hit a patch of ice, my front tire goes into a scary wobble, and there's a automobile bearing down on me on my left shoulder. I didn't fall, but there was that moment, probably a micro-second, where falling seemed like a distinct possibility. Did some smiling, bored God just flip a coin? And then what? Who knows. But falling in front of a moving car, isn't something I was up for giving a try. Anyway, I straightened out, got to where I was going, and made it back home safe and sound too. By night fall, the streets were pretty clear. There was a shining slice of a silver moon staring down at me. The little village was so quiet. I wondered, do people live here? Where are they all? What do they do? How do they make it?