ghost of white

Bitter, cold, biting.

Yes, really. I watched as a haze, a white ghost howled, moving down the street. It engulfed a car for a moment, then moved onto the poor guy shoveling the drive. It was the discolored demeantor. I don't know about taking away any happy thoughts, but rather consuming any heat or warmth. I don't relish the thought of getting out into the cold tonight after work.

After running from the yeti, I might very well fall into the snow -- hoping to see Ben telling me to go to the Dahgoba system.