the cold - K

I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I guess people would say different things--obvious things.

Well, you're a woman. You're just hormonal.

You're lonely. You haven't been with anyone in--what, two years?

It's the season. Everybody gets down in the winter.

But I don't think that's it. And I know it sounds silly and dramatic, but it's just so much and I don't know how to hold it all.

I got on the bus this morning at the Peach Avenue stop. It was so cold--the wind chill was in the negatives, I remember the weatherman saying. My body remembers how it pierced and numbed me while I stood there at the bus stop. And I was dressed for it. You don't live up here without knowing how to dress for it. It nipped at my toes through my shoes. Should've worn two pairs of socks. I stood there so long I couldn't feel any of them, and when the bus finally came and I had to climb the steps, I thought I would fall.

It took a long time to warm up. The bus was heated, but my mouth was stiff from the knife-wind I'd been standing in. When I could feel my toes again, it was only because they hurt so much. Like cold fire. Like I always imagined it would feel to touch dry ice. My face felt raw and my toes stung in my shoes and my hair was everywhere, and as I sat there, in a seat by myself, I realized I was about to cry.