Sturtian:
There are days when I am fortresses melting slowly by the fireplace. Each finger and toe is distinct, and they house their own visitors. I disdain them, the bits of dust and bacteria my body collects sometimes. I would rather even the sun didn't make its way through boarded windows and touch me. I would like to be alone.
It is snowing. The hills and driveways and roads will be erased, trees will fall, the world will be quiet. There will be no screaming, no bubbling anger or hope.
I am like water but I am more like ice. I do not forget, for the memories I would perhaps lose were never there. I am gathering myself in the center, balling myself up, trying to expose as little as I can to the world for the long winter.
a warmth unremembered:
Something knocked on my door.
Someone came in the house.
Someone took me under a blanket and kept me warm.
Marinoan:
The snow falls on my skin and I am away from the fire.
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