Unfixed

"Mother," I wrote, "I've gone to the library. I'll be back in 30 minutes."
I placed the note on the table next to the couch where my mother laid, passed out from her breakfast of her favorite drink, whiskey and wine. I slipped on my heavy jacket and walked straight out into the blistering cold. The air was frigid, it nipped and gnawed on the bare skin of my face, bringing it to a bright red color. The temperature measured 28 degrees Fahrenheit, but no snow fell. Only the cruel wind blew in the shadowy time. I marched through the old streets of Montana, pushing against the wind, when all of a sudden, out of the darkness, a boy appeared. He walked through the wind with ease, wearing nothing but a light black jacket and skinny jeans. His hair seemed to have stayed in perfect place despite the wind and he seemed eerily peaceful, as if it was a nice summer day and he was just strolling in the park. When he tilted his head and made eye contact with me, I realized I had been staring. I advert my eyes, but take a second to glance back, making sure he was real. I think, maybe, I caught him smile. A blush rose to my cheeks, it was no longer the weather making my face red. I shook my head, shaming myself. He was a stranger, he shouldn't have this kind of effect on me.
"But he does." My mind whispers.