And then

I threw up. Waking up throwing up as I entered work. From cold to colder, and the snails silver trails on the carpet, and falling dust as I slammed the door, was all too much.

Rubbing my legs against a ticking radiator, grabbing every last bit before putting the trousers back on,

lying on the floor with my head against the PC tower, warming my ears against a vibrating computer fan

quite cold toes and a white sock heel,

but hot laces from a car heater, like microwaving a witch.