Winter gazed miserably out her window at the city lights below. She sat, shivering, in the depths of her namesake’s darkness. She had arrived home an hour ago, but lately she could not bring herself to do more than sit and stare. Each day felt as if more snow got added to the roof of her life. Eventually, she was afraid it might break. She was afraid of what she might do if it did. 

Each day, she woke up at seven a.m. sharp. Today, miserable gray clouds prevented her from seeing the cold winter sun. The train departs from the station near her apartment at eight, but she cannot depend on that truth; the city budget is inflexible, after all. The trains run when they work. Sometimes they work too well, and Winter must walk. She took the train to the heart of the city where she began her job as a graphic designer at nine. A half-hour lunch break punctuates the day with a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich and some chips. At five, she was done. The train does not arrive until six; the city budget is inflexible. 

The train station in the city was a simple platform with a handful of turnstiles and a shabby roof. Harsh fluorescent lights dotted the ceiling; they tinted blue at ten. The benches had no backs, and they angled slightly downwards. Suicide prevention posters lined the wall at Winter’s back. Snow started to fall and began to line the edge of the platform in front of her. 

Winter owned an unbranded smartphone. It was a miracle that it could send and receive texts at all. The screen was cracked and splotched with black. She could not use it for

entertainment, for she could hardly use it at all. Each work day, then, ended with her daydreaming of all the things she felt she would never have. 

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Winter woke in a warm daze. Outside her window, thick, fluffy snowflakes whirled their way towards the street. Heat wrapped itself up her bedposts and caressed her face as it wound towards the ceiling. The sun smiled at her from behind her blinds, beckoning her to greet it. 

Snow blanketed the town, and the trains were unable to run on the icy tracks. She could not make it to work, but that did not matter; her boss sent a mass text allowing a company-wide snow day. The dead pixels seemed to come to life as she read it. Were the cracks always that small? 

Stretching wide, Winter gently tested the floor with her foot. She hated the feeling of cold floors in the morning, but today it seemed a pleasant compliment to her cocoon of blankets and warmth. After slothing her way to the bathroom, she gently made her way through her bathroom routine. Staring at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, she noticed the rings around her eyes had lightened compared to yesterday. 

In the kitchen, she heated a mug of water in her microwave for tea. Most days, she did not have time for caffeinated comforts, but today she would make sure to savor every drop of the cheap bagged tea she could barely afford. To her, it was the nectar of the gods.

Walking towards the living room, she gazed over what little comfort she had. Her ratty couch, which smelled like its previous owners; her TV which had just high enough resolution to make out the subtitles on the movies she pirated; her single bookshelf, collecting dust and unread novels. Perhaps today would be the day she started a new book. Maybe she could watch a new episode of whatever the dear denizens of the internet decided to seed. 

No. 

She would make the most of her time and do both. 

Before she reclined onto the couch, she decided to make her usual peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich, as a treat to her future self. What better meal for a lazy day watching TV? She turned on the TV and connected her ten-year-old laptop to start a show. The narrator began: 

“Due to current weather conditions, the train will be delayed. We are unable to provide a timeframe at this point. We apologize for the inconvenience.” 

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Winter snapped her head off the wall. The cold, steel bench dug into her thighs, and the wind slapped her. She blinked her sagging eyes, and saw half a foot of snow piled upon the front of the platform. The false voice repeated its message at a volume just loud enough to be uncomfortable.

“Due to current weather conditions, the train will be delayed. We are unable to provide a timeframe at this point. We apologize for the inconvenience.” 

She opened her phone to check the time. Six fifty-seven. Nearly an hour after the scheduled time. She lived too far away to trek through a snowstorm. She simply had to wait until the train graced her with its presence. 

An hour passed, perhaps two. She could not tell; her phone had died shortly after the second announcement. The tracks were dark, and the lights were uncomfortably bright. Winter sat, daydreaming sporadically between windy assaults. 

Her favorite feeling was waking up insulated from a cold room by the embrace of a thick blanket. The heat would eventually kick on, and she would swiftly evict the cold by closing her bedroom window and letting her vents provide warm air. The air would coax her out from under her blanket with temptations of thermodynamic equilibrium. To her, this was the most comfortable way to wake from sleep, but an open window and adequate heat were luxuries she could not afford. Instead, she would be wrenched from sleep by shivers and by blankets that harassed her skin. She slumbered at the whims of the weather, be it the sweltering sweat of summer or the wicked rime of winter. Her desire for protection against a consensual chill was one she would be barred from for the foreseeable future. She would likely never see it fulfilled. 

“Due to current weather conditions, the train will be delayed. We are unable to provide a timeframe at this point. We apologize for the inconvenience.” 

The lights dimmed and shone blue. The snow was now nearing her thighs. “Due to inclement weather, the train will not make it to the station. We apologize for the inconvenience.” 

The budget was simply too rigid.