you open the door,
and your breath stops in your throat.
you feel the icy fingers of
jack frost tickle the inside of
your throat as
they reach for your lungs.
you step outside and watch as
your breath hangs in the air
like a tiny cloud.
a small plastic toy blocks your path,
and you kick it,
watching it shatter into a hundred pieces.
this is cold like you’ve never seen—
and like you never want to see again.
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