The gray clouds are blotting out the sun once more as the leaves fall off the trees. Like naked bums they stand there with their empty branches, dying their yearly death. I feel like that would be nice.
Close your eyes and go to sleep, and let the cold and the snow and the dreary, dredgy months pass by until the sun is warm again. Until the days are long again.
The cold seeps into my room through the thin windows, through the crack under my door. The room fills with smells sweet and foul, fresh air being too cold to consider.
The world becomes dark and cold. People huddle together for warmth and feel more lonely than before. Drink up your whiskey to feel warm, if even for only a minute.
Winter is Coming
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