I can’t type today, sometimes my hand goes numb, sometimes my heart goes numb.
I’m whispering this into my phone–what a cold and strange thing with which to share whisper. But it holds what it is given with more grace than anything warm.
It’s water resistant, you know, like me. We stood in the rain today, it and I. The drops were cold, my phone was cold. There are cold things everywhere.
It lasts longer than warmth, you see. Warmth fades into cold, it is beaten into cold, it is numbed into cold.
Sometimes my hand goes numb now, sometimes my heart. Sometimes I am numb, but at least I’m still warm enough for the rain to cool me.