Warmer than ever

I've never liked this time of year.

Every day I walk, bracing myself against the wind, hiding from the damp fog, stomping on buildings, street signs, people, reflected in puddles on the glossy street. Is there more to life here than gray, black, the cruel beckoning of cold sunlight? I miss what I used to call home and I fail to rebuild or replace what I've lost.

But lately I've noticed the fog dancing in the wind, the city shimmering on the ground, the black is now onyx and gray has turned to silver. The sun is shining.

And standing with you I feel warmer than ever.