It's a cold cold cold emptiness. Gusts of wind-chill drive cruelly tinkling shards of ice into my stone walls, while the sun looks the other way.

Last night, the windows rattled woodenly like footsteps that would not come as I lay huddled under the blankets. On my half of the cold bed, I thought I would not sleep. I thought I would freeze, tears still warm on my cheeks. But I must have slept because I woke in the morning, still alone.

It seems I do not need you to keep me warm.