Living On The Edge

Note: This post dates from 11/22, was lost (or so I thought) in a frustrating glitch, and has just been recovered from Drafts. Enjoy!)

The frost has come well and truly to Blisstopia.

The width of melting point

The yard, still trying for greenery, is rimed with frost. Ice fae painted the car windows and danced upon the leaves. Stepping out of doors, the bare skin crawls under the cold, causing one to hunch, to try to cover more with the suddenly insufficient coat.

The car sputters, grinds, coming to hesitant life only after a few tries, and fingers that clutch the scraper to clear the windscreen scream for a hot cup around which to wrap. The smell of winter, damply crisp and heavy with the promise of snow, winnows into the nostrils, a taunt of what is to come.

But the sun creeps across the lawn, easing away the time to restore the greenery, beckoning to be played upon even just once more. The car warms, an oasis of heat with steaming hood.

And a warm cup is soon to be had.

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