Palms together, the cold air settles slowly but with purpose and clothes me in goosebumps. I haven’t worn a watch in years, don’t need to know what time it is, know my heart is about to stop. The wallcreepers are on the move, feathers flee into the mist.

The wind seeks my attention, wants to dry the tears as I huddle but I won’t fight the strain. This mountain is familiar and I count cracks upon the skin on my wrists, assessing age that of a tree, rings now too many. Smirking while in search of the great white titan, taller than any sequoia.

The sun is prowling, scouting for a Tricity born tellurian playing hide and seek for yet another day. I jump and for a solid moment I feel an emptiness, an ethereal weight, I gasp and try again, gasp, try… sigh…