But that July morning, it snowed.
Blue seeped into the beds of her nails like a matte polish.
She tugged the rough wool tighter around herself
Wrinkled formed at the edge of her eyelids
her face contorted in pain.
She reached out
Her skin felt colder than the frozen knob in her grasp
She exhaled
Her breath a misty cloud of heat and moisture
The window clouded, then cleared
as the cold reclaimed the glassy surface
She pushed. Hard.
The door creaked and gave way
Light poured in
She stepped forward
squinting as the sun hit her pale complexion.
Warmth covered her
probing for a way in.
She cringed.
sometimes, you have to learn to love what's good for you.
