“Ah, the curse of woman. It was Eve’s fault I hear, but I don’t believe that for a second. Aunt flow came to visit and she beat me soundly. You ladies will know what I speak of, but you men are prolly quite confused… No matter, you don’t need to know.
My fingers go white and numb in the cold. My toes curl into the soles of my boots like plant roots seeking purchase on a rocky ledge. My hair blows around my face like the boughs of the trees, slapping my frozen cheeks with a gentle rebuke.
My thoughts slow down and thicken with the dropping temperature, like the water in my jug outside the door; stolid and unhelpful.
I am becoming brittle in this cold, like an old tired snag in the forest, about to be downed by the first strong wind…. However, I am rubbing my emotions together to generate a little heat and the friction sends sparks to my little heart.”