Outside the window, a heavy blizzard is falling, and muffled music flows from an old stereo. Inside the poorly heated room, the white breath exhaled into the chilly air seems to be the only living thing.

He nervously picks at the peeling black polish on his fingernails while endlessly refreshing your MySpace profile on the computer monitor. That brief moment when his eyes met yours swells up in his mind like a monster, suffocating him. His heart pounds and his fingertips tremble coldly.

Pressing his headphones tightly against his ears, he curls up in the corner of the room, hugging his knees. What are you doing right now? His world is so full of you it feels like it might burst, but he's probably nothing to you.