Outside.

And it's gorgeous outside. The wind swaying this way and that. Achy, broken trees ticking like cold metronomes. Leaves blowing past me. Swirling eddies, liquid death.
The air is frigid. I can't feel my fingers. As the chilled air fills my lungs, I can feel them expanding. Pulsing. Pounding. Or is that my heart? Something seems to swell. In. Out. In. Out. Breathing deep. Breathing in sleep.

Faint music drifts on the wind. Under my breath? I would never sing these songs to you. But yet, here they are. I'll say things I'd never say directing. Charming. Singing. A siren's song flitting this way and that. Enchanting. My, how so.

And oh, the great sights I see. Brilliant white beams of light streaming through the thick fog, piercing it like a million golden-white arrows. Little lines of frozen water crack and branch out along the side of the road. Millions of ice particles fill the air. Solid gold. Solid cold. But yet. The air is still. It's not raining. It's not sunny. It...
It just is.

And it's simply gorgeous outside.