frozen

I think I've always been cold. Not emotionally (although ex-boyfriends could argue that, as well), but rather physically, literally cold. As the leaves fall, I remember. In the winter, walking the frozen streets, I fear I will never know real, true, all-body warmth again. Even once inside, wrapped in a blanket and drinking hot cider the cold permeates my bones.

I feel it, too, in the summer. It's then when I know it must be true. Riding down University Avenue in the blistering sun, temperatures reaching far past 90. Sweat dripping down my back, a breeze brought on by a passing truck brings chills throughout me. Immediately I recognize the cold, the pain, the unbearable desire to just be warm.