ie's

and the frost cracks under the nail. Crystalline, wedge

ay. Nothing in this room shou

n. It clings to the rubber the way it clung to the loading dock c

out hesitation. Martins's glove on cold c

that,

am I

he sits cross-legged on her bunk, pink lip balm in one ha

ly,"

ic kettle and plugs it in. "Your

old go

s the kettle from the tap. "You walked in at two fourt

d

a chamomile bag into her ceramic mug. "Said som

stop on the

g off. "Or the discussion questions. I genuinely can't remember wh

ig

st lines the inside of the to

want

N

mug on my nightstand. "You look pale. Like,

m f

for two seconds too long. Opens her mou

"And don't miss your s

and head for the

k the door, turn the faucet, and sho

m. A faint hiss, wrong in pitch, and the frost

s on the por

p scr

and deliberate, growing in a di

whisper to

My vision blurs for two seconds. The fluorescent overhe

light steadies. My lu

he tread grooves. The sol

to spread agai

, nothing I can point to. I dry my hands too slowly, w

ith my sleeve. Tired eyes

," I w

the tap a

*

ular mitosis. The words slide off the page before they reach my b

s going back

nsley leaves for her lecture, the door sw

teen I cro

as half-built a lopsided snow sculpture by the library steps. A yellow fly

W in marker. Two dots for eyes. I

ill carries a faint trace of indus

bber mats, tape rolls stacked high, and the stal

gs on its metal fra

brush the fur, and the scent spikes. Winter f

I don't know how it

up from the skate blade in his fingers. Tobacco leaf and worn leather ha

t i

door stays cracked two inches, and a dra

ice is underway. Blades carve the

gs low behin

away. Sort the tape rolls by width.

. Start over. Coun

ook

the rink air. Martins glides mid-pass across the blue

stutters on

blade off center.

stick in my hand stop

ards, and two defense

whistle shrieks

. Bench

his edge and sto

that pass. Not i

he water bottles, gloves hooked on the red railing, eyes on the crack

h line and taps his stick

u g

m f

g. His eyes travel from Martins to the cracked

fingers and bounces twice on

t. Nothing about

he heavy door bangs shut behind me. The parking lot

t. I don't

*

as'

Skate blades scrape do

strap, then the other. The rink lights click off

tes cold through the wool. Black tea and damp earth cl

is empty. Marlon's

ngers trace the zipper track. Near the collar, a

umb and forefinger. The roots catc

m. The heat hasn't left

I say to th

into my inner jacket pocket and settles over

rtins still stands alone by the

walk ove

rops into shadow. The fur stays wa

closes