Snow was blowing past the window like a blizzard, but the blizzard was invisible. She stared out at it, dressed in a tank top and shorts and bundled warmly in a blanket. This shouldn't be allowed, she thought, I shouldn't be where I am, wrapped up warmly in a blanket, ready to cuddle but no one with the wish to do so. Staring out the window at the invisible blizzard. Staring at the invisible blizzard with her eyes. What else would you stare at a blizzard with? Your soul. Staring at the invisible blizzard with her eyes and her invisible soul. The snow didn't stop. Kept blowing past the window. And going. She stood up and dropped her blanket to the ground and walked with glazed eyes to the front door. Looked out. The snow did not stop. She opened the door and stepped into the snowdrift, without stopping for shoes or a coat. Her foot instantly grew numb, but she ignored the cold. She did not deserve the warm house and blanket and hot chocolate and fire and whatever else the cozy little place could offer. She took another step outside. The snow did not stop. The invisible blizzard kept going and going. And going. And kept falling down, everything, all around her. It stung her eyes and froze her limbs, her hair whipped around her face. She did not try to warm herself, and she did not stop. Step and step and step she went into the invisible blizzard. And she kept going away from the cozy house to the frigid cold of an invisible blizzard, savored the feeling, she would never stop for the rest of her life.