King Winter


I left the building and entered the deepening twilight. Cold struck immediately. It mocked my pants and ignored their feeble protection. It pressed hard against my raincoat from all angles, seeking an easy way in, then settling into a steady presence, biding its time. It was only a raincoat after all. The coat itself seemed to throw up its hands and say, “Hey! I deal with repelling water, you’re on your own with this freeze, honey.”

I put my faith into the thin fleece under the raincoat, hunched my shoulders, curled my hands inside my mittens and jammed them into my pockets.

Feels like Winter has regained his throne.


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