Free Writing About Greymouth

As I watch the steamy cold barber roll into Greymouth each morning, I think, “What is happening?! How is this happening?”  It looks like avalanche charging down, I look back at it again, yet this time it's moving at a slower speed. I decide to step outside to get a better look, but then it hits me. The icy cold feel of the wind blowing at me, it almost feels like i'm getting hit with a cold, cloudy, giant hand.
I quickly head back inside just before the next round of hits come back around. I hurriedly bring my now cold, shaken, and  frozen hands to the door knob and closed it shut.