It's Cold Outside

He dreaded the sensation of the harshly cold granite beneath his bare feet. Each step sent waves of goosebumps up his legs and over his arms. Of course, to his dismay, this rabid cold was caused by a nearby ajar window. The wind out there must have bellowed with enough attitude to shove it's way past what was an arguably useless guard from the night air. The frame of the sill was rickety, and made small tapping noises whenever the wind came to wave hello. It buckled under any simple tease of the weather. It should have been replaced years ago, but it was as old as the house it came with, bearing the wrinkles of time and maltreatment. The many owners of this house who have come and gone did not show much compassion to this brooding pile of wood he called home. The windows locking mechanism was pockmarked from numerous aggressive shuttings and openings. That might explain why the damn thing won't stay shut. He toppled over it, still drunk from the sleep he was enjoying only moments ago, and hung his arm around the handle. With a heave that required his entire body, he closed the meager porthole. The wind that had just been howling and shrieking into his ears now fell away into a sort of simmering quiet. He could still hear the pitter-patter of debris brushing along the very thin glass that separated him from icy oblivion. His clothing wasn't really exemplary for sleeping during the winter season. A tank-top and some flaccid pajama pants did little to protect his fragile, bony body from the distasteful winter storm outside. He shuffled back over to his bed and collapsed onto it, promptly rolling the blanket over him. 

He hated how quickly beds lost their temperature when left alone. It was as if he had not yet gone to bed that night. The fabric somehow always retained a dew at the surface that cooled down instantly. His task now was to warm up as quickly as possible, so that he could return to his unconscious stupor. Just as he was reaching a suitable level of comfort, he heard yet another shudder. The window had given up once more, seeming entirely out of breathe this time around. He didn't dare leave his cocoon again. Instead, he bravely chose to hold his ground against the malicious tendrils of nature that leaked into his place of dwelling. He could feel the hands of the cold air tickling at his feet, crawling along his joints and brushing the thin hairs beneath his chin. No matter how much effort he put into packing his body within that blanket, nothing could keep out this ethereal demon. The chill haunted him with egregious persistence. Eventually, there came the chattering teeth, the numb toes, and a very disgruntled man in the wee hours of the morning. All he could do at this point was roll up into a ball and pray for the sun to rise sooner. He compared the ritual to what students in class do when they stare intently at the classroom clock, in the hopes that it may suddenly skip a few increments of time. 

His prayers were answered by another knock from the window, which at this point begged to be torn from its hinges. He threw his pillow over his head in an act to silence the rude distractions around him. For a moment, he heard nothing but his heart beating in his chest. As he focused on its rhythmic thumping, it occurred to him that the only thing keeping him from becoming a human popsicle was the warm blood being pumped throughout his body. He wondered how much warmer he would be if there was someone else lying there with him - if two bodies could, in some enchanting way, share their steaming blood with one another. The thought fell from his mind down into his throat, in the form of a rather taxing lump. He would have wiped the tears trickling from the rims of his eyelids, but they offered a morsel of warmth to his very pink and frozen nose - just enough to leave him limp under the covers of his bed.