Twisted

At 8.45am today, I mixed a sachet of unsweetened white coffee with one part hot water and 5 parts ice-cold water. It was a delectable treat. "You drink cold coffee in the morning?" someone asked me. "Why not?" I answered. "It's still coffee."

Yesterday, I made an attempt to rekindle a severed friendship. But the response I received was anything but warm. I felt it straightaway, but I pretended not to feel it. "It's ok." I told myself. "You're still the same person I never knew."

A peek out the window tells me it is raining heavily outside. The sky is crying again, this time accompanied by strong gusts of angry wind. My office is a freezer, and my jacket is merely a thin layer of mist against the excruciatingly low temperature. They say it's all in the mind, and that if you think of something warm, you will not feel the cold.

And so I thought of you; I thought of love. It felt a bit better for a while, like a brief hug in the winter. But love is pain. And pain is cold.

Ah yes, it is still cold.