Now that it's winter, flurries of snow are dusting the ground, therefore I stay inside, grimacing as the white hurts my eyes. But I know that you'll go out, so while I'm staring, drifting in and out of a day dream while the heated drink beside me steams, I wonder if you're warm. I wonder if you're warm without my coat to wrap around yourself, or my arms to hold you until you stop shaking. I feel like I've failed you, since I no longer have the privilege to shield you from bitter winds. Eventually I take a drink, it burns the back of my throat, but it doesn't feel anything like when you left. I don't think that sensation will ever leave.