A Brief Paragraph of a Work In Progress

This section ripped its clothes off to get my attention the other day, while I was proofreading my book. It was saying, “I know you think NaNoWriMo is a steaming heap of silly, but look at my nakedness before moving on. Is there something strange?”

The shuttle-wagons were on the off peak schedule so they walked the half mile to the Erikssons’ apartment complex. The summer night’s balm was heady, pushing against their bodies as they walked on the sidestreets, and it stifled the mild sounds of a sleeping university-city like a sift of fresh snow on the ground. They didn’t speak and they were comfortable in the silence, yet Vincent obligated himself to buy Alan a cup of decaffeinated tea at one of the late night stands outside of the complex.

I noticed the hairy mole in its midsection. What kind of writer compares the feel of a summer night to snow on the ground? Does it work in this instance or is it a signpost for amateur hour?

Photo by CollegeDegrees360.