I’m running late.

Rushing out to my car, coffee in one hand and keys in the other, I slip on a patch of black ice. Thud. I land straight on my back and my coffee spills all over me. As if my alarm not going off wasn’t enough. Pulling myself up off the ground I slip again, on the fluffy snow that was concealing the ice. This time I land on my butt and the remainder of my coffee splatters on the ground, soiling the slick snow. I carefully try to stand one more time and somehow manage to get my feet back under me.

Carefully, I shuffle my way over to my car and collapse into the driver’s seat. Covered in snow, coffee, and frustration, I stick the key in the ignition and step on the clutch. The car sputters, but no dice.

I try again, and again nothing. Muttering to myself, I try one last time, and after an abnormally long sputter and grind the engine catches. I breathe a sigh of relief and put my hands at ten-and-two, only to realize that my windshield is completely iced over.

Fumbling my way out of the car, ice scraper in hand, I brutally attack the ice that dares to mess with me on this horrible Monday. One jab at a time I pick away at it and eventually I’ve cleared enough to be able to see the road. Flinging the door open and haphazardly throwing the scraper in the back I finally put the car in gear and head out, but just as I make it out of the driveway, I realize that I left my phone inside. I rush back in and grab it off the counter, wasting more time that I don’t have to spare.

Finally on the road and making good time, I streak past kids waiting at bus stops and owners walking their dogs. Then the inevitable happens: I get stuck behind a school bus. Impatiently tapping on the wheel I can feel my blood begin to boil and my cheeks begin to redden. I really should have just stayed in bed this morning snuggled up with my dogs. Instead, I’m soaking wet, freezing, stained with coffee, and late for work.

I think to myself, There’s no way this day could get any worse. Frustrated past the point of return, wondering what my boss will say when I clock in an hour late, I decide that my day won’t get any worse. I take the next right and head toward Main Street, and call my boss on the way to tell him I’m taking a sick day.

Once on Main street, I see all the familiar little shops and the sleepy people meandering their way down the sidewalk, destination unknown. I remember when I was just a kid and my parents brought me and my sisters here almost weekly for one thing or another. We stopped in at the bookstore so mom could browse and buy another book to add to her growing library.

Next door is the candy shop where Dad would always bring us while mom took her time at the bookstore. And just down the road was the park where we would have family picnics in the summertime. As I remember, I escape my horrible day, if only for just a moment.

Snapped back into reality by a risk-taking j-walker coming into view, I slam on the breaks just nearly missing him. I feel the anger and frustration of the morning return and I feel like a gunpowder keg about to explode. Looking around for anything to diffuse the rage bubbling inside me, just down the road I can see the pale blue sign for my favorite coffee shop. Instead of sitting in my car and stewing in my anger, I put the car in gear and make my way towards The Blue Mug Cafe.

Keeping with my theme of the day, parking is miserable, but I eventually manage to find a spot and head into the cafe. I order a large vanilla latte and slump into an oversized reading chair by the window. Taking a deep breath, I try to forget this morning even happened.

I sip my latte and look out the window to my left. I have a clear view of main street. The little shops lining the street are lit up. Snowplows rumble by as they clear the way for the cars that are streaking past. Tired eyes wander their way into the cafe.

Inside the pale grey walls and chunky brown furniture are a safe haven for those seeking refuge from the cold, tired, chaos that ensue the outside world. People from every walk of life find refuge in this quaint little coffee shop. By the register, there is a mom balancing one kid on each hip and a frantic look in her eye. She reminds me of my mom, just after Ashleigh was born: tired eyes with a strong, protective stance.

At the table across the room, there is a couple sharing a croissant and staring longingly into each other's eyes. They seem to exist in a realm of their own, undisturbed by the cries of the child by the register or the cool breeze that finds its way into the cafe through the constantly opening and closing door.

At the chair further down the window from me is an older woman reading a nondescript book. She has an air of peacefulness about her like she could just sit and read all day here in the cafe, without a worry in the world.

Waiting in line are countless suits, checking their watches and talking on their phones. They’re so caught up in their own worlds that they are missing the beauty of the world around them.

Just seeing them reminds me of when my life looks much like theirs. I worked at an insurance agency for a while, selling insurance and my soul, to pay off my college loans. It was a good job at the time. It was close to home so I could see my family as much as I wanted and the pay wasn’t bad, but I could feel my soul shriveling up like a California raisin.

I had wanted to wear a suit and work a nine-to-five job but realized that I needed more. I quit my job and started the hunt for anything that could feed my soul. After a month of nothing, I settled on something that could pay my rent: Leather Letter, a used bookstore.

The shop is bland, but it pays the bills. I have managed to work my way up to assistant manager; an accomplishment I told myself I wouldn’t stick around long enough to see. My soul still longed for more. It longed for variety, for travel, for adventure.

I read about all of these things during my shifts at the bookstore, but I grew tired of the same old stories and the same old places. I want to get out and live life instead of just settling for what’s convenient.

As I reflect on my life I happen to glance out the window to see it right before it happens. To avoid colliding head-on with the snowplow, a blue Ford Focus cuts left, toward the cafe. At first, all I see are the blinding headlights, and slowly the driver comes into focus. His white knuckles choke the wheel, his shoulders raised like a collar on his neck, and his eyes are full of fear. We make eye contact as I hear the shattering crash of the car flying through the window, and then everything goes black.

I hurt all over. The pain is like nothing I have ever felt before. I bite my lip to keep from screaming and slowly open my heavy eyes. I can hear the moaning of someone nearby. One of the babies that rested on the woman by the register’s hip is screaming. I can’t hear car tires gripping the salt on the road; instead, I hear faint sirens off in the distance.

I can’t turn my head.

My mind begins to wander. Today sucks. Where am I? Isn’t anyone going to stop that baby from crying? Everything hurts. I’m late to work; my boss is going to kill me! What is that whining noise? It has to be the ambulance. How much longer until they get here? Why is my head pounding?

Maybe if I could just move my head a little, it would feel better. Maybe if I had woken up a little earlier, I would be at work right now. Man, my boss is really going to kill me! I have to quit now. Maybe I can find a new job. Everything hurts. I can’t move. Why can’t I move? Am I dying? Is this what dying feels like?

A flicker of light in my peripheral catches my attention. The morning sun shines through the shards of glass left wedged in the frame of the window. Steam and smoke are everywhere, but there is something else in the air. Small clumps of snowflakes twist and twirl around in the smoke. I watch as one swirls its way down to my face.

My mind wanders to an early memory of mine. My sisters and I running, singing, and laughing in the snow-covered park. We lay down and make snow angels as the flakes float down and melt on out chubby cheeks. I pretend I’m back there. I pretend that I didn’t have the worst day ever. I pretend that I’m happy and have my whole life ahead of me.