• The colder the room became the more awake I found myself. I twisted and turned and pulled

    for the sheets as the wood stove knocked like an iron heart. I sat up, huddled into the corner

    of the couch with my knees up to my chest, Staring out of the window at all the icy

    crystalline stars dusting the night sky. The old motherly woman was sleeping she had a bed

    in her living room, and she seemed to be content with her life. I supposed that it was warmer

    in that room but all I had to do was step gingerly forward into the other and see her sighing

    form under the sheets to realize that. In the west sat my Buick, a tired horse in the dust and

    gravel of her driveway. I contemplated leaving and heading out a bit further on my path tired

    and nearly starving from the exhaustion of the day. Yet then I realized it would have led to a

    much more uncomfortable resting place, and unsound sleep when the exhaustion finally

    came, crashing in like a tsunami. I pulled myself away from the couch and piled in next to the

    stove, in a dull attempt to warm myself from the slow pull of the December draft through the

    window.