There are many "hells" on earth, but narrowing it down to one certain style of misery is almost unattainable. One miniscule torment that I can describe is one day when I was at work during the ice storm. The day had not begun at work, but it could be described in the same caliber as having been.
             I awoke an hour before lunch, already been exposed for two hours without electricity/heat because the glacial like ice hung on the telephone wires as if scoffing at our sudden catastrophe, which we were not prepared for. Chills ran down my spine as I arose from hibernation, teeth chattering rhythms, it felt as if I was walking into winter.
             With an hour to go before lunch, I only had time to attend to my hygienic routine prior to classes. As I grabbed my keys, and opened the door, a tree branch was hanging not three inches in front of my face, with ice sickles hanging off its branches. Slipping past the door, on the ice-covered porch, my feet got colder with every step towards my parent's house. Brushing the sleeted rain of my sweat shirt, I told my parents I had a hunger that was twisting my stomach into knots.
             Before we could head out the front door, we tended to our birds with the warmth of various blankets wrapped attentively about the cages. On the drive to the restaurant, we milked the only heat that was made available, of which my father's truck could provide, but not our homes. We sat in the waiting portion of the lobby, as if being conditioned to eat, because there was literally no multitude. I was sure that everyone else had to have done the same, so I just kept to myself instead of complaining. In the middle of conversation, my sister brilliantly brings up the subject of the high temperature, not so much as their coldness. My mother's appearance grows ashen and colorless, panicking by this piece of the conversation. The lone way that she can be at peace is if she leaves the table, not e...