I want to write you a message in

the frosted window. Like, if you

were digital, like if you were a

hologram I would write with my

finger tiny and infinite and really

meaningless sequences of zeroes

and ones and you would read

them and not understand. Like if

you were a bird I would draw a

crude portrait of a mountain lion

and you would know that my

intent was to scare you but you

would not be, as you are so much

more clever than I. Like if you

were real, as you are real, I would

break the window and let

the blizzard come in, because it is so

cold and lonely. And there we

would be, in our two snowsuits

humming wordlessly and warm.