The Angle

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In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"The air is saturated with the kind of cold that makes you wonder if global warming is just a myth. The bitter wind makes me wish for Satan's scorn to rise from Hades to blister my skin. It's winter in Chicago, and I'm wearing a hooded sweatshirt. If she could, my mother would return from the grave just to come back to tell me to put some warm clothes on. A hat maybe. Perhaps some gloves. The hood of my sweatshirt is thrown around by the wind, which is irritating my eyes. I can't tell if my contacts are drying out or if they are frozen. It's that cold."