somthing Hanes.

It's the cold. There's something about a cold wind that makes one vulnerable to some emotions you wouldn't think exist on a warm night.

Between the sheets where you're all curled up and your body warm, the cold wind outside somehow still find it's way into your gut. Then you shiver. It's the kind of cold your cup of coffee couldn't drive off and your sweaters could keep out. The kind you can't puff out with a cigarrete smoke. Colder than the other side of the pillow. It's the maddening feeling of emptiness.

So then you start thinking about the one thing that could make the cold go away. That something... that someone... cozily tucked in his bed while you try to fight off the cold with thoughts and hopes that one day he will come around. The waiting is killing you but you do it anyway. You feel like it's your duty although nobody put you on the job but yourself. But you couldn't quit because you want him to feel that you're waiting because you're hoping that he will realize that and then come to. So you wait.

Hopefully.

And you wrap yourself with a blanket and curl up in a ball. Cold.