The Room’s Too Cold

As soon I open this window all of the air rushes out; the air becomes cold. My fingers start shaking, mouth starts quivering, in anticipation. I’m frozen in every place that it matters right down to my core. The dull thump of my own heart beating is the only audible sound.

The heat won’t come up because in these old buildings you get a blast of heat every few hours and suddenly you feel stifled all over again. The hiss drowns everything in its arid heat. There is hope. Blood rushes to your fingers – everything is possible once more. Peel off the sweater, relax, open the window.


And repeat.

So I’ll try something new – putting my pen to paper. Suddenly the heat is just right, the paper warm underneath your hands. Pour your soul into something organic.

The computer’s glow is the only light in the room. It’s blue hue begs your attention.

I was trying something new. I had no intention of this coming out. Let me know what you think.


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