A few days ago, wondering what would happen if I just died like this, I stayed still, buried in the snow on a deserted street.

Thinking that maybe, the world would stop.

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Cruelly, the world turned its back on the sun exactly as scheduled, and darkness fell. Around dawn, when my whole body was covered in snow, I finally stood back up. It was a change of heart.

That evening was an ordeal. With a cough and chills, the way to the clinic felt so far that I barely managed to put on a mask and headed to the nearest convenience store.

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That's where I met you.

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My hand almost felt scorched by yours as you pressed a heat pack into my palm, saying it was cold outside, while I was buying cold medicine.

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Were people always this warm?

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You are annoyingly on my mind. It's not that I liked you. Your existence was just... bothersome.

When are you leaving? Are you going to keep living here? If so, that's a bit of a problem. . In the dawns when sleep suddenly won't come, I think about what it would be like to just disappear. The warmth of that heat pack keeps interrupting my thoughts. I pointlessly pulled the edge of the blanket up to my chin.

You won't live here forever... Could you go in the spring?

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Then, should I try living just until winter ends?

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I'll have to ask next time I go to the convenience store. When you're leaving.