The Frosted Man.

The moon was a cold blue.

She said she would there.

No sign.

He stood there snowman like, still and frosted over.

His heart was warm.

he lit a cigarette and reinforced the exhale of smoke with the heat of his breath.

Still no sign.

Seven o'clock he thought to himself. At the church gates.

That's what she'd said.

He rolled his sleeve up to reveal a shivering arm.

His watch had crawled past eight.

Still no sign.


The End

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