Tadisa’s JournalĀ 

In a brisk winter afternoon, the cold licked at his face and seeped evenly into every inch of his bones. With each slow breath came a thin mist.  His lips cracked and skin white as snow, his teeth chattering  like a pneumatic drill. He had been standing for a few minutes, but the cold made it look like it had been hours. He stood there with wandering eyes which have him a perpetually distracted look. His spirit it seemed had already left on some distant journey,  a place only him knew. There was something in the air, a sad note the weather played upon the instrument of the shivering body. 

At 26, Tadisa was tall, middle build with a lean pulpy face which had a stern expression. He wore  a brown cashmere cardican he usually  wore on special occsssions, shapeless and frayed at the elbows. The circles beneath his eyes darkened with each night he stayed up to fill out job applications.  

He snapped back into  reality and in the winter cold,  he slouched towards the only place he knew he would find solace, hands thrust in the pocket. It had been nine months now,  and he had been caught between a rock and hard place. Not only had his parents sweated blood and tears for him to go to college, he had done everything he can to make sure that he sailed through collage.  Cold and confused, Tadisa walked briskly arms wrapped tightly to shield himself from the winter cold.