The Cold

The sun would not keep him warm.
His breath left his nostrils in a thick fog.
He looked around the barren land.
There was no horizon.
It seemed as if there was a circular wall of white and blue surrounding him.
His feet would not stop for he had to reach his destination.
He started to wonder if he would make it.
The tips of his fingers were numb.
The crunching of snow under his feet echoed through his mind
until he only heard one sound.
He looked up at the sun to break the hypnotic spell.
It burned his eyes but it felt good for it warmed his whole body.
His heart beat like tribal drums.
He felt his pulse in his hair.
Temperatures dropped like tears from a crying baby's face.
He could see his home now.
As he grabbed the doorknob, his skin froze to the metal.
His hand mechanically shot back as blood covered the doorway.
Inside he stepped.
He could not feel his ripped flesh hanging from his hand,
but it was good to be warm.