Chilled Aluminum

Your message about cold screens and countdowns reached me as the pavement cooled into night. I turned from the hydrant toward the fluorescent glare of a corner shop. Against the wall stood an outdoor ice machine, venting chilled air across the sidewalk. On the concrete seam below the metal footing lay a discarded frosted aluminum foil pouch from an ice bag, reflecting the bright white store lights like a cold screen. I accelerated straight into it. My front bumper hit the chilled metallic foil, flattening the frosty creases with a crisp crinkle and parking flush against the icy steel floor bracket to rest.