Steam rose up, billowing away. It mattered not which way she moved, or how she watched it.
In awe of its beauty.
It was as beautiful as the silent sky. Lonely of clouds, every star stood vivid against the dark.
She felt the slight chill begin as the heat drifted away. It was slightly invigorating, refreshing; almost as if she could take on the world.
But then came the numb-eating chill that burrowed down into her body, anchoring itself to anything and everything that was her.
She was able to reach out into the bleakness, to the sky. But one by one, her fingers folded in.
An awareness settled in, that she had found, she did not care if she became frozen, forgotten; tucked away as a fading memory.
