Snow blind

 It's one o'clock in the afternoon and I am still sleeping. I guess this is what you get if you force yourself to sleep at five o'clock in the morning. The phone woke me up violently, I know I shouldn't be asleep at this time of the day, I'm just wasting it, but I can't help it. It was my mother, she asked me if would come over. I told her I have to go to work.

I drew the curtains and took a look outside the window. It's snowing. At last. The forecast told that the temperture would drop these days, but living downtown in a mediterranian city I didn't expect this.

 I made myself a hot cup of coffee and put on some fast music to sharpen my senses. I ate a couple of toasts and a croissant and got dressed to go to work.

Damn it's cold. I can't recall the last time my bones where chilling that hard. I was making large steps to get to the bus stop as soon as possible. On my way, a little girl came close. Living here I am used to gypsies or junkies begging for money so I could tell by the look on her face she would ask for something, and I knew I would decline quick and keep on going.

 The thing is that this girl was not a gypsy or a junkie. She was just a 12-year old kid. She asked me if she could use my phone. Acting mechanically I said no and looked away.

 I was only feet away and felt disgusted about myself. Why did I refuse? I was not in that hurry, That girl might've been lost or something and propably she would call her parents or a relative. She wouldn't have been able to memorize a lot of numbers in that age. But still I didn't look back, I just left her there.

 Where have all the feelings gone? Is this what society turned us into? The saddest thing is that I know that most of the people around me would have done the same thing, and that's why I don't have fear of judgement. But deep inside I know that's not right. It's not right to turn your back on someone in need. You don't need a reason to help people. I want to change myself, and the world.

 The cold I feel inside matches the cold reaching my skin. The only thing I keep telling myself is what of a miserable person I am, not because I didn't help a stranger, but because I held the lamest of excuses, that noone else would.