Fingers numb, the only feeling is being taken fiercely by the cold, iron-gripping my fingers as I type word after word. An icy October wind chilling my blue liquid veins. I hope that this isn't too faulty on my part, but full of cold-cuts and half-drunk natural water, I can't be blamed. Humming The Hush Sound, the only thing calming keeping me is the thought of your nose tipped into my waiting shoulder, friendship linking us like emperor penguins:forever. Maybe the acidic fluid I allowed to overflow my eyes was too sullied for you, but the dawn star is rising as I ride the Mtro to work. 5:30 am, no one inhabits the trains at this time, except hollowed out smokers with vacant eyes, tweeds, and the occasional gum wrap kid trying to make for than a buck a day, such as myself, warming myself with cheap black coffee and the knowledge I don't live off my means, writing. I'd be broke off of fire-stained sonnets, dark child-like expressions sold for a pence and mediocre half novels, left unfinished due to my paranoia of ends. May this explain my taciturn mood of our wrapped up arms in the sunlight and the need of silver rings guaranteed proof that I'll wait, a promise entombed in ashen metal. goodbye and good luck for now, as i pass out of the grumbling plexiglass doors running, amid young Cockney mothers and veteran sailor's curses, mostly to myself, as i fly to work, late, sweating, and noticed. I pat my cheek to ensure warmth is trapped in translucent skin, somewhere, underneath the layers of Peruvian scarfs and English jeans. I slink through, a poorly thought out feat on my part, 6'2" can't be hid by partially closed 5"7 cubicles. "Late again, are we, Mr. Faro?" "Yes, sir. I'm was dreaming on Egyptian time." "Really? well, Egypt isn't the one keeping you fed, boy! Get to work!!" He bellowed with a affectionate roar, hard to catch in his bulldog demeanor and slit eyes.. But the sly smile aimed at my back was enough. THANK YOU, FATHER, I thought with a sheepish grin, as i began my morning article.