My hands wrap around the end of my sleeves, cutting off the chilling air; avoiding hypothermia. Although, my finger is curious to feel frost. Slowly, it creeps to the tip of my sleeve. Thankfully the slight chill warns me. Any further and I would have been bitten. For frost bites.
My legs are locked like lifeless rocks at the bottom of an ocean. The tear I shed from my eye is crisp and cold on my swollen face. In front of me are frozen foot steps pacing in past on the asphalt street. A roadside light gleams down thirty paces away. The wind is silent. The street is clear.
In fact, all that speaks is my mind. Body as motionless as the dead, yet my lungs still fill with air and my heart continues to pump blood through my veins. I am heavy in thought; heavy in feeling. I can't seem to move my motionless limbs. I rather fall to the bitter pavement and let my dreams abduct me in rest. For I am tired. I am weak. And I am heavy.