I've been walking for days now. It is so cold out here. The wind cracks my skin like that of a glass in the freezer cracking as the water freezes, and expands into ice. My hands feel like the ice. My thumb is especially wind blistered.

     As I walk, Lights blind me. Feelings of invisiblility creep down my spine, or else it is the wind shuddering me. My feet on the pavement echo into the branches looming over me. The other sounds are that of engines, muddled music passing, a distant howl.  The lights all reflect my pasty skin, but none slow. None are brave enough.

     My knees and hips feel weak. Brittle from the freezing and thawing of the night. Yet I am somehow able to still walk. My feet are full of thorns. I haven't seen them for days, though i can envision the blisters, worn away immensly from my battered thrift store shoes.

    I think about the last year, and the shiver creeps down my spine once more. The only thing I am left with again is my mind. My memories.

The End

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