Page 41 of Blindly Yours

It feels like that to me too. I’m usually not quite this open, but you’re really easy to talk to

ASingleRose26

Seeing your messages pop up each night is like the highlight of my day

BigSpoon92

I’m holding in an equally sappy comment in an attempt to hang on to my man card a little longer.

I laugh as I check the time. Shoot. It’s almost seven.

ASingleRose26

I have to drop for a few hours, but please share your comment when I’m back. I promise you can hold onto your card.

BigSpoon92

Ha, fair enough. I’ve gotta do some more prep before the storm. Talk in a bit?

ASingleRose26

Yep, see ya :)

Let’s face it. I’m one hundred percent smitten.

SEVEN

Rose

Driving away from the city always throws me off balance. I like being surrounded by tall buildings. They feel protective. Familiar. But once I hit the interstate, the sky expands and I’m exposed. I don’t like the vast nothingness of the country. The lack of distraction is unsettling. There’s too much space to think.

I sit back and turn up the radio as multi-story apartments morph into cornfields and barns. I’m hoping I can make it up to St. Cloud before the weather rolls in, but the dark clouds in front of me seem to want to test my luck.

I wonder what BigSpoon is doing to prepare for the storm. If it gets bad enough, grocery stores might shut down for a day or two. Maybe he’s picking up the necessities.

It made my heart skip a beat to hear him say he’s been more open with me than he’s used to. There’s something unique between us, and I can’t wait to see what this might turn into.

Twenty minutes into my drive, soft white flakes begin to hit the windshield. “Great,” I mutter, switching cruise control off and reducing my speed. The interstate isn’t very busy, and I soon realize I’m the dumb one for trying to make the trip tonight. I should have just rescheduled for next weekend with Miss Evangeline. She would have understood.

Having lived in Minnesota my whole life, I’m used to driving in the snow, but it picks up fast tonight, and before I know it, I’m barely doing thirty. I can’t see three car lengths in front of me, and I consider turning around, but I’ve made it this far, and the drive home would be just as bad, so I trudge on.

Brake lights begin to come into focus ahead of me and I squint through the whiteout as traffic slows to a crawl. My phone pings, warning me of an accident ahead. It suggests an alternate route, so I take the next exit for Silver Creek.

Initially, I’m eager to get away from the mess of stopped cars. Maybe I’ll make better time this way. But I quickly realize my mistake. I’ve turned onto a rural road no one’s been down since the storm hit, and it’s covered in already drifting snow.

“Well, I’m dumb,” I mutter under my breath as I grip the wheel and make my way slowly down the narrow two-lane street.

It’s hard to see the edge of the pavement, and my Lexus wasn’t built for these conditions. My tires are starting to lose traction and I grasp the wheel tighter as I reduce my speed even more. It doesn’t help much, and now I can’t even tell if I’m staying in my lane. This isn’t a small storm. This is absolutely a blizzard and I’m absolutely not prepared.

An extra large gust of wind blows snow onto my windshield and suddenly I can’t see anything. I hit the brakes hard—which is the last thing anyone should do in the snow, and I know that—then I start to skid and the road slips out of view. It happens in slow motion, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m white-knuckled and holding my breath as the car slides off the road, just barely misses a telephone pole, and then gets caught in a drift, halting just before the ditch.

Then there’s only silence, save for the sound of my radio, which is still playing a top forty mix. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, but I’m ok. The car is ok. Everything’s fine. I take a deep breath and gently press the gas, but the tires have no traction. They spin in place, kicking up snow in my rear-view mirror.

I try to reverse, but they just spin in that direction too. I’m completely stuck, and for a minute, I stare silently at the snow accumulating on my windshield. I’m alone in the middle of nowhere, in a blizzard. This is not good for so many reasons. I start to panic. This is how people die, isn’t it? Two days from now, my family will find me frozen to my seat like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

But then I remember I have roadside assistance. I’m living in the twenty-first century. I pull out my phone and unlock the screen, but in the corner, I see the words NO SERVICE.

“What?” I squint out the window at the whiteout that surrounds me. I know I’m in the middle of nowhere, but it’s not so rural that I shouldn’t have cell service. I can feel my palms begin to sweat against the steering wheel.Alone.I’m alone and I can’t call for help.

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