Walking to the coffee shop on main street for a small coffee, then over to the 7/11 on the corner for a cheese danish and taquitos.

Weather is cold today. The sky’s getting dark early – sun’s hanging low.

Within moments of walking between buildings on campus, my hands are painfully numb. Harsh air stings in my lungs. Glasses fog up when I go outside, then again when I get myself back inside out of the cold.

I’m surrounded by people, and I want to be alone. I retreat to the relative comfort of an empty room.

Being alone used to bother me, a little. Now it makes me feel better to get away.

I remember a book that I read a couple of years ago, a book about a girl who sends love out into the world without asking for anything back. She said,

“It’s a game I play. It’s a good game because I can’t lose.”

Worth a try, anyhow.

I send love to the married couple looking unhappy as they trudge inside from the harsh weather.

I send love to that one group of undergraduate stoners who always disagree with the professor in philosophy class, even when they haven’t done the reading.

I send love to the cashier a the 7/11, looking haggard but still trying to smile to every customer in the line as it grows.

I send love to the solitary gardener, always tending to the edges of the flower beds.

I send love to the boy who’s talking to somebody new and can’t help but be excited about it even though he knows that it’s an unrequited crush.

To the professor who has to drive home for two hours in a snow storm.

To whoever is making the sheet pizza for a tiny gathering of friends.

I hope there’s a hot shower at the end of your stupidly long shift at work. I hope your favorite song is playing on the radio on the way home.

I send love to my mother.

To the mice, living in the walls.

I love you.