Cold Comfort

She walks, stiffness giving way to numbness that makes it hard to keep upright. After the first few stumbles, she loses interest in picking herself back up, more and more difficult because her muscles aren’t obeying her commands very quickly, if at all. The snowdrift that looms abruptly in front of her looks cozy. Settling in, she finds that it is: cozy, the snow underneath the sparkling crystalline layer deep and insulating. It keeps out the movement of the wind, so she pulls it around herself; it cooperates, wrapping around her like arms, comforting, nestling her in, closer.

Read: thickjam.