ABSTRACT
This story starts very early, too early for most people. To be exact it starts at 5.15am on a cold winter’s morning. Saying goodbye to the cat, I closed the front door wishing I were still snuggled up in bed. I sighed deeply as I looked across at the ice-covered car. Yet again I had to scrape the thin skin of frost from the windscreen. Searching in my pocket, I realised that I had left my mittens in the house or were they lost again? This meant my frozen fingers, numb from the cold, would fumble with the scraper and spray. A chilling wind travelled, with its own purpose, down the road and wrapped itself around me, its bitterness entering my bones and chilling my soul. And then it vanished.
