Ice Burn

I had a terrifying nightmare. A woman came into my room and opened the window. She sat on the ledge and asked me if I was happy. I started to say that normally I was but something about her made my heart pound in my ears, and not out of affection. Before I could finish my sentence I was awake and downstairs a young man’s life was wasting away. I knew I would never be able to speak to her again. If I’d have reached out to her, her icy cold skin would have burned me. The burns would have remained if I – if I had woken. Perhaps that was the reason for her melancholy.