Three Years And A Day
My world is a small one.
It's winter. The only season I can feel because my heater doesn't work. I look out through the one small window out onto the snow covered ground. I shiver and look back down, my breath coming out visibly in little clouds around my head, looking red from the faded paint. Normally my hands would get frostbite by the end of the season, because my fingers aren't nimble enough to work with gloves on. Except that's the problem. I'm wearing gloves.
I'm looking out the window again, kind of sighing at the snow inwardly and at the same time wishing I were in a room with no windows.
I thought it would have been hard to keep the promise I made three years ago.
It's actually been quite easy.
I like my world small.
The only problem is that I miss the feel of rain.