13. Shivering no more

It was freezing cold this morning, but I went out anyway. When I got to the courtyard, I took my boots off. I wanted to feel the concrete's coldness more. Against my fuzzy gray socks, the ground felt like it was more alive than the trees with leafless branches.

I stood still for a long time. Then I felt the air bite my skin. I love that. Never mind if I'll regret it later when my skin dries up and I'll have to scour my closet for moisturizer. At that moment, the cold nipping at my skin felt so right. And I, like the ground, silently vibrated with life.

One of my neighbors opened his windows and asked if I was nuts. Shoe-less in the cold. I said I was wearing thick socks. He laughed. I laughed. A few minutes later he joined me at the courtyard, but I wasn't in the mood for company. Contentment in the cold is not the same when shared with someone you don't really like. Or used to like but think you don't like anymore.

After awhile, your body gets used to the cold and there's nothing new to feel anymore. I put my boots back on. He asked me if I wanted to get breakfast. It was my turn to ask him if he was nuts. Nobody laughed this time.

I wasn't shoeless anymore, so I walked away.



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