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The first snowfall always brings little visitors. I always wake up on that late fall day with toes as cold as ice. I always throw back my heavy sheets and hop-skip across the cold wooden floor to the closet. I always pull on my puffiest white pullover, a pair of soft, thick sweatpants and my warmest wool socks. I always look out my windows, coated with that rough white frost into the calm white world that the night as left me. I always stir up some sweet, dark hot chocolate and fix myself a fresh, toasted croissant. I always pop my head out the front door to fetch the day’s paper. I always trace the multitude of tracks left in the snow on my front porch with my finger, trying to count how many separate sets of bare little feet have been pacing around my house while I sleep. I always pick up the little pouch left on my doorstep by the visitors. I always open it and count out the eleven yellowed teeth contained within. I always slip on a pair of warm boots and walk the parameter of my house, making sure each window and door is firmly secured.
do you believe in x
Wednesday October 15rd, 2008