The window sill is chilly. The leaky wind seeps through the broken seal, passed the window pane. The fingering draft caresses her face as she sleeps. The cold deepens through the skin, to the skull, to the brain. Gathering in the bones, filling the muscles, it creeps. Gaining passage the cold eats from her heart its warmth; the blood slows. Who would have known of the subtle breeze? The Chill, look how far it goes. The beating stops; the body's stiff. The soul faded; the spirit-who knows? The leaky wind seeps. What of the broken seal?
