Evening sun drifting into velvet black. Rays ooze through rusted leaves. Every window warm. Inviting.
Roast turkeys. Candle glow through wine glasses. Nightly news pouring blue over huddled families. Floors scattered with toys like ice ready to be slipped on. Woman singing to herself. Houseplants. Man crying alone. Cats in windowsills. Bare white walls. Coffee. Home.
Fires, stoves, and love around him. He was cloaked in it.
They found his body when the trails cleared. No person should have been out in that blizzard so far from the ranger station.
When they found him he was wearing a smile.
Daniel Wartham is a Grad Student in the daytime. But he moonlights as a weirdo. (He does it during the day too.) He has been published in The Daily Drunk, Livinia Press, Schuylkill Valley Journal, and others.
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