On my table lies a book, and there it has lain all winter. At that time my mind only had one track: to spend the least amount of time outside of my bed. The meals were quick and inhaled more than eaten. One quick bite and I ran back and once again kindled a hearth within my sheets.
And still the dusty blue jacket remained untouched as I questioned the purpose of this blog, the futility of self-expression, and the apathy of readers in this god-forsaken city of shut-down metros, 7ft snow piles, and winds that seemed to increase in velocity at every street corner. It lay there calling me. My own steadfast tin-soldier; it knew that someday its time would come.
And then one day, my ride home was not in darkness. The flowers were blooming and so too I returned to life. And as I walked freely around my house my eyes dropped on my steadfast soldier who had lain all winter waiting for me.