2AM. Maybe I should be sad that my Valentine’s Day was uneventfully lonely, but for once I’m content. For once the thought doesn't cross my mind.
There is an ethereal glow shining into my bedroom from the old-fashioned picture window. It’s a pure gift- it’s snow.
I’m shivering, but I’m not cold. My stomach is growling, but I’m not hungry. I’m smiling but I’m not particularly happy. What does it all mean?
There is so much to do, so much I haven’t done. But what does it matter. I really don’t care anymore.
But I’m glad the snow is falling. Even if it doesn't last.
