I remember it was winter. The snow had piled high which my knees carved paths in the bed of the soft brittle landscape. My mom had gone missing again, likely another boyfriend while she leaves her daughter to fend for herself whether it meant protecting herself or figuring out what to eat. But these past few months have been a training camp for rationing. I'm disciplined in survival while she galavants around with men I'll never know names of. My bones ache, and I long for an eternal sleep that'll take me somewhere far from this place. From the cold, wretched grasp of poverty and despair. My mom, brother and I have been on a dreadful journey to nowhere. Shelter to shelter we try to escape the arctic winter that threatens to sink its icy jaws into us.

As I suited up with the best available winter gear, my brother begged the question, "when is mom coming back?" As if I had the answers to anything our mother was doing. I shook my head, "I don't know" and instructed him to wait in our room. Stepping outside I felt the rush of arctic air chipping away my nose, threatening to shatter my cheeks should I persist. And persist I did. Because my mom left me to fend for ourselves, and by doing so I must take on the burden of caretaker. So I put my tri-layered hands into my pockets and began my journey to the nearest gas station, estimated time of route: 20min.

Twenty minutes walking through the unkempt path with only tennis shoes could not only be described as brave, but tragic all the same. I couldn't begin to imagine living like this without shelter, and so I tried to rationalize it, I try to make myself feel grateful, but gratefulness is short when all your prayers end up on God's voice machine. Left to eternally leave a message after the beep while you move quietly in the background of occupied spaces. No one notices you this way, no one bothers to. I thought about the way we're so adamant to be the voice for the voiceless, the hand for the weak, should the moment rises we're suddenly avoidant. We're suddenly shy. So while my feet loses feeling, the cars passing me don't hesitate. They don't even bother to move.

I was waist deep in thought when I saw him. He was just across the street from me, I wouldn't have been able to tell someone was there with the way his body perfectly blended in with the snow, but the scarf on him a pure crimson red gave his position away. He stood so still I was unnerved by it that in all my weathered wisdom, I stopped to stare back. I couldn't make out anything about him with the way the shadows concealed him. He was just tall. And he was exceedingly pale. The fresh snowfall undulated perfectly onto his windswept raven hair, like stars in the midnight sky.

I didn't bother squinting, he was too far, and it was too dark. I turned from him and continued my way towards my destination, leaving behind the red-scarf stranger. My labored breaths condensate in the fresh arctic air, if it weren't for these circumstances I'd find it romantic the way my rosy cheeks and frost bitten nose tasted the snowflakes. But even nature is against me with the wind picking up.

After careful selection of foods I thought were nutritious enough, which in this case likely wasn't; it was just cheap, I stood outside the gas station. For a moment, I spent my small break between hikes playing Indoor/Outdoor Car, where I determine which car lives in a garage and which doesn't. Patrons moved in and out of the station, kicking the salted sludge from the gutters of their tires and brushing the snow off their windows. It didn't matter much if they did, snow would accumulate regardless. But I guess it was something to do while gas was pumping.

I saw in a small white car, a child looking at me. She was no older than my brother, holding onto a blanket and a snack, she watched me as I did her. These moments, I feel, were akin to making eye contact with fauna. Two entirely different worlds, yet we're feet apart perceiving one another. We were breaking a rule here, I'm not sure which, but it felt wrong to be seen this way. As if she could tell. I broke eye contact, severing our brief connection, and walked away.

At the entrance of the gas station's parking lot, I stood in preparation for the journey back. The bottom of my jeans were stiff from walking through the snow, I could feel the hardened fabric graze against my skin. But as long as I can feel my toes, I didn't care. But time is running short, the curfew for the shelter was in an hour, I don't know if they'll let me in knowing I'm a resident, but I wasn't willing to find out.

A quarter of the way through, my back pocket was vibrating. Sighing, I stop to shift the bags to my right hand, and answer with my other, it was my friend, Alec.

"Hey." I said with a slight shiver in my voice.

"Hey jelly-belly-bean-bag how's it goin'?" Alec sounded a bit proud of himself for that one.

I rolled my eyes and blew a strand of hair from my face, "that one was kinda cringe."

"Oh come now, it wasn't even that bad!" He whined.

"Not your best, if I'm being honest." I took the silence to think for a moment, "honestly it might be your worst."

"What?!" His voice peaked through the speaker, making me pull away quickly before putting the phone back to my ear.

"It's up there with 'barbecue shrew in a rat stew'" I pursed my lips, "it's a close second."

Alec protested on the phone, asserting that his toddler nicknames made him a lyrical genius. Despite his unserious demeanor, he was always kind to me. But nice is different from good, that is especially true to Alec. Beginning of junior high, Alec made it his mission to date damn near every girl in the school, a world record of titles he for some reason wanted to possess. He was nice to them, but he didn't think past breakups and what it meant for some of those girls. In high school, he went for a different kind of record, it was risky. He had two plans: sleep with every girl or try every drug known to man. He ended up trying the latter when those same junior high exes recognized his exploitive personality. I remember him disappearing from high school around senior year, only to discover he had been found in a ditch hopped up on crack and LSD. He spent years in rehabilitation since.

I interrupted his rant about the cost of bus passes, "how is rehab treating you?" I was hoping he'd answer sincerely, but he seldom took seriousness as a sign of consideration. Alec was quiet, I could hear him shuffle on the other end of the line. He didn't answer, but I can imagine him picking at his lip.

"S'alright." He said finally, "treatment is good, I guess. My social worker been tryna get me some of that vocational skill stuff or somethin' or other."

"For life and stuff?"

"Yea, for life and stuff." We were quiet again. I didn't mind it too much, it was passing time, allowing me to forget the sharp pain in the soles of my feet. Alec went on to explain, "yea, she's got me seein' a therapist too, talkin' about mindfulness and all" he wheezed at the idea.

I realized Alec never talked much about his life, he was loud but he wasn't avid enough to share unexplored corners of his mind. And although it bothered me how he was, how he carried himself, I respected it. I thought maybe if I gave him enough space he'll come to me, maybe I thought I'd be special enough for that. Or if I was special at all to him. I shook my head, the hell's wrong with you? Alec is good at one thing and it's living up to a self fulfilled prophecy, trying to be enough for him as a poorly disguised attempt to 'fix him' is grounds for self sabotage.

As Alec talked to me about his daily routine in the treatment center, I glanced at the empty space where the man stood. I'm not sure if I felt relieved to know he wasn't just some elaborate prank leaving a mannequin submerged in the darkness, or should I feel paranoid knowing he's out there. My mind wandered, exploring possibilities of this mysterious figure. Someone trying to freak people out by Blair witching on the side of the road? Was he stalking me? Or was he genuinely someone on a walk. Oh god, but with only a red scarf? Probably not the most outlandish thing I've seen, people will straight up wear shorts when it's in the teens with negative windchill.

Alec's voice peaks in the speaker again, jolting me back to reality. He was elated about something I wasn't paying attention to, "so I said: yaba-da-ba-babooooya baby!" He laughed hysterically. Again, I shook my head in disappointment.

"That's awesome, Alec" I mustered a flimsy smile, "I'm glad you're working so hard, genuinely." I hesitated to mention it, but I figured if I waited too long the opportunity may never rise again, "maybe after all this horseshit, you and I could—" the line went staticky. I stopped and looked at the screen and saw the call was still active. I call out for Alec, but I could barely hear him anymore. Then the line went down.

I groaned and slid the phone in my pocket. Alec's outgoing phone calls for friends and family were limited in the treatment center, but since I'm one of the only people that still talk to, he chooses to spend his minutes on me. Despite that, I'm not sure when I'll ever hear from him again. My walk fell silent, save for the sound of my soles crunching the snow. Even though Alec was in an intense supervised environment, he was still a gateway to another world outside of my own. It felt a lot less lonelier, but when I don't hear from him I feel trapped in a snow globe, forever a spectator of lives I wish I had. Winter, my glacial enemy.

[A/N] A bit of a slow burn this one.