I shiver chafing my hands together on the bus. Even sitting uncomfortably close to a stranger my fingers and toes ache with cold. Standing on curbs waiting for late public transportation has that effect on even the most weather worn new englanders I imagine.
Staring out the window I feel myself begin to thaw in the sunlight. Now I can see it. The riot of color, the light frost turning to dew on the grass… Then I can see it. There under a blanket on the cold stone footer of the decorative bridge lays a person covered with a blanket a shopping cart at their feet.
The shiver comes again. This time it is the cold creeping under my skin and into my soul.
How dare I complain.
The image whips past me as the light changes, no matter it is burned into my mind.
All rights to the owner of the image whom I thank
