It’s not winter. Not yet. It’s cold and dark and miserable but not quite winter. You aren’t looking for a classic white Christmas that never happens. You aren’t interested in that. Your just sick of murky, never ending autumn. You see someone walk past outside; and their scarf is blowing around their neck in the wind. You see someone else. They stop in the window of a shop across the street. You turn from the window and pick up your hat and coat. Your wrap up warm and head out into the cold. For the past few weeks, it hasn’t been winter. Now, you can admit that autumn is over. Now, you have to say that it is winter. You step out into the crowded street and push your way through the mass of people. You see a face you know and acknowledge them. However, you do not stop. It’s too cold to stop. You head through all of the people until the road narrows and there is no one about. Then you stop and look around. You feel a small flake of snow on your face. Without permission, a small tear trickles down your face. You’ve been kidding yourself the whole time. It’s winter now. It’s been winter for a while.