My fingers are the kind of cold that feels like heat. They don't feel like typing or telling you anything any more. They hurt, they just want to be wrapped in gloves and thrust in the pockets of the sweatshirt I am wearing. But my fingers are all I have and they have their job and I push them and tell them to shut the fuck up, I don't care that they burn, because there is work to be done.

Photo - S
Words - S