I want it to be cold.

I want it to be cold.

I want to walk outside and shiver.

I want my breath to cloud when I blow it out.

I want my toes to shrivel in my flip-flops.

I wear them year round to run errands.

I want it to be cold.

I want to be slapped by the wind.

I want my nose to run.

I want to dash to the car and huddle inside.

I own nothing heavier than a sweatshirt.

I want it to be cold.
I want to fill my lungs with frost until they ache.
I want mist to weave a web of droplets in my hair.
I want to feel the crunch ...